


A Perfect Forever

by Caylyn21



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Fall (Hannibal)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29589624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caylyn21/pseuds/Caylyn21
Summary: Will and Hannibal survive the fall and head to Iceland where they try to make a life together.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 35
Kudos: 102





	1. So Much Shit Just Went Down

It’s ice-cold as the rocky waves take them under. The darkness surrounds them, freezing them to their very cores. Will is still clung tight to Hannibal, if they’re going to die, he wants them to die together. Hannibal was limp under him, threatening to slip away, but he just clung tighter, wrapping his legs around Hannibal’s waist and arms around his shoulders. The thought of letting him go was more terrifying than the feel of the first gulp of salty water filling his lungs; it wasn’t even an option. As Will pressed his face into the crook of Hannibal’s neck, weak and light-headed from the water filling him, just about ready to succumb to the waves, Hannibal stirred. Will looked up at him, into his eyes for what he thought would be the last time, wanting him to be the last thing he ever sees, when Hannibal surged them up to the surface. 

They were coughing, breathing air for the first time in minutes, clinging onto each other for dear life. The waves weren’t rough, but they were strong enough to pull them back and forth, violent enough that all Will could do was still just hold onto Hannibal, who was, as always, his anchor. By the grace of God, or maybe by curse of the Devil, they made it onto the shore. There they lay together. Will’s head still on Hannibal’s chest, as it was when they fell, just breathing. They breathed in the air, in each other, in the events that led them to this point in their now completely conjoined lives. 

He doesn’t know where it came from or why it’s happening, but while laying there, half-drowned, drenched, covered in gaping wounds, blood and dirt, Will started laughing. Hannibal did too. It rang through his chest into Will’s ears and might just be the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. He suspected oxygen deprivation might’ve been the cause, but that just made him laugh harder. He knew they were going to have to deal with this. To drag their tired, hurting bodies up the steps into the cliff house, and figure out where to go from there, but right now all he could focus on was Hannibal and the stars above them. 

Hannibal stirred and started to get up. There’s nothing Will wanted less than to make the admittedly not-very-far trek up to the house. He didn’t want to do anything. He didn’t even want to die, not really. He just wanted to be able to lay there with Hannibal’s arms wrapped around him - tired and cold to the bone, dirty and in pain - a place where time feels suspended. He wanted to exist on a plane entirely their own, where no one could bother them, come for them, separate them. A place where they could be alone together, a place where, now that he’s here with Hannibal, listening to the previously daunting waves now calming and beautiful, under the cover of darkness and twinkling stars, he knew he always belonged. But he knew that was unrealistic. They had to move, and with effort, he let Hannibal guide him to the seaside staircase leading up to the house, and started the climb. 

They had to walk past Dolarhyde’s lifeless body to get to the house, but Will couldn’t find the strength to care. Not that he would, even if he wasn’t currently bleeding out of his face and more tired than he could ever remember being. 

Hannibal separated himself from Will for the first time in what felt like hours, and the absence of his constant pressure and warmness left Will feeling exposed. He only went across the room to get a first aid kit but Will’s heart-rate went through the roof without him by his side. As if some unforeseeable force will take Hannibal away from him when he just got him back. He would like to think it’s just the three years without contact that has him feeling this way. Finally getting to touch Hannibal again after quitting cold turkey like they did. But he’s afraid that’s not the case. But what’s a little unhealthy attachment to add to their already unhealthy relationship?

Stepping over the broken glass and the spilt wine/blood combo, Hannibal guided him to the couch in the living room, first aid kit in hand. On top of the bone chill from the water, nearly drowning, and coming to striking conclusions about the next steps his life is about to take, Will had almost completely forgotten he’d been slashed in the face. But now that his attention is back on it, he wonders how he hasn’t passed out from the pain, or at least from the blood loss. 

As if reading his mind, Hannibal handed him some painkillers from the first aid kit. He surveyed his wounds but didn’t do anything about them. Just rested his warm palms against the uninjured side of Will’s face while looking deep into the injured side. Will leaned into the touch. Looking down, Will just remembered the gunshot wound Hannibal received and his heart rate sky-rocketed once more. He shook himself from between Hannibal’s hands and lifted his shirt, searching blindly through the first aid kit for anything and everything. 

Admittedly the wound wasn’t that bad. The bullet went straight through and it clotted itself pretty well, enough so that it was barely bleeding. The pressure Will put on it while lying on top of Hannibal must’ve helped. Hannibal cupped his hands in Will’s and slowly moved them away. Will looked up into Hannibal’s eyes hoping that it was enough to convey the relief that washed over him. Hannibal brought his hand back up to the uninjured side of Will’s face and caressed him like he did in that kitchen so long ago, but this time with the intention to soothe, not distract. Once again, Will leaned into the touch. 

Letting Hannibal guide him once more, they ended up in the bathroom. Hannibal started the shower then turned his attention back to Will. Hannibal’s hands smoothed their way down the front of his shirt, working the buttons off in one seemingly fluid motion, then pushing the fabric off his shoulders, letting his hands linger there. The belt was the same. He worked it off as if it was a surgical move he had perfected after years of study. There Will stood, naked in front of a man who, in all head’s except his, was a terrifying serial killer cannibal. Though in this lighting, he didn't look it. Sure, the bloodstains on his face gave it away, but besides that, working off his clothes, the fabric tensing while it slides off his body, the warm oranges of the strangely soft bathroom light bouncing off his cheekbones and eyes. It may be blasphemous to even think this, but he looked biblical, angelic. It should feel wrong, standing like this with him. Uncomfortable and awkward. But he felt strangely at home. Vulnerable yes, but only in the best way. In the way that only Hannibal could make him feel. 

The steam from the now warmed shower started to fill the room, and Hannibal, like he had been all night, guided him into the water. At first, they just stood under the stream, letting it soak them. The warmth thawing their bones, ice from the jump. Hannibal grabbed a bar of soap and lathered it between his hands, letting the foam build-up before slowly working it over Will’s body. He relaxed against Hannibal’s touch, letting him soap up his aching body. He watched as the red-tinged water made its way down the drain. With the painkillers working their way through his system, the hot water washing away all the debris that’s been caked on his skin, and the presence of Hannibal’s body pushed against his, all his tension melted and flushed down the drain with the flowing water; it was like he was floating. Fingers began working their way against his scalp, and Will couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped him. He relaxed even more against Hannibal, cheek to his chest. The soap dripped down his face and into his wound, but he couldn’t even find the strength to feel pain. 

Will’s hands slowly dropped from their place around Hannibal’s shoulder's to down his waist, then around his back, working the soap into his skin as well. Will lifted his head off of Hannibal’s chest, looking in his eyes as he grabbed the shampoo and lathered it into his hair. Hannibal closed his eyes at the sensation and Will couldn’t help the bloom in his chest at being able to make him feel at ease. 

When the water finally ran clear after several minutes of standing together under the flow of the showerhead, Hannibal shut the water off and moved to get out. Will groaned internally as the hot spray of water ceased, dreading getting out into what would inevitably be uncomfortably cold air. Nevertheless, he grabbed onto Hannibal’s hand and they got out together. The air in the bathroom was at least warm enough so the contrast wasn’t so stark, it’s when they left the bathroom that the towel wrapped around his damp body wasn’t enough to stave away chills. 

Hannibal left him sitting on the bed while he searched in the wardrobe for clothes. The closet was filled. Strange for only being a temporary safe house. Though he supposed Hannibal did have a taste for the finer things, and one couldn’t expect Hannibal Lecter to work with a limited wardrobe. The shirt he handed Will was cotton, the pants soft and flannel. His style, not anything Hannibal would be caught dead wearing. The realization hit him harder than the chills around his body. This was meant to be his room. All those years ago when Hannibal had been planning their escape. He had put together a fully stocked bedroom for Will, complete with clothes he knew Will would be comfortable in. 

Hannibal places the clothes next to him and leaves the room without a word. It was ridiculous for Hannibal to think he needed privacy just to get re-dressed, especially after what they’ve just been through. But for all his faults, Hannibal is nothing if not polite - granted in his own twisted way. But just the thought of standing to get dressed was draining. Hannibal re-entered the room with the first aid kit from before back in-hand. Sitting on this bed now, Hannibal’s warmth once again beside him, all he wanted to do was lean back against the pillows and sleep. Hannibal, as if seeing these thoughts, places a studying hand on Will’s shoulder, grounding him. Pulling out suturing thread and a needle from the first aid kit, Hannibal cups Will’s face to ready him. Will sighed. He knew he would need stitches, but by god, if it wasn’t the last thing on earth he wanted right now. 

Hannibal injected him with a numbing agent and waited for it to set in, still cupping Will’s face and looking into his eyes. It should be strange, sitting here, naked and doing nothing but staring at each other. After all, eye contact was never something Will favoured. But as always, with Hannibal, it felt strangely cozy. Despite the now slightly-less-chill-inducing cold nipping at his bones, he felt warm in his core. The deep lines in Hannibal’s face are mesmerizing, warming. It was intimate, as things with Hannibal always seem to be. 

The numbing agent worked its way through his face, effectively blocking any pain from when Hannibal started the sutures. He wondered how it would heal. A thin barely-there line like the one on his forehead? Or would it be stark and pink, forever transforming him? The ladder would be more fitting, as that’s what this night has done to him. Changed him, and the course of his whole life, forever. He’d be okay if the scar was visible. A reminder of the events that led to him and Hannibal finally falling together - in all senses of the word. 

When Hannibal ties off the last of the stitches, Will finally works on the clothes Hannibal left for him, no longer being able to stand the chills. At last leaning back against the pillows, he breathes a sigh of relief. He was lying on the far left of the bed, plenty of room for Hannibal beside him, but he still was only sitting on the edge of the bed. For a moment he was worried Hannibal would leave him. Retreat to another room in the house to sleep, leaving Will alone, to the mercy of his carnivorous thoughts. Those thoughts were put to ease as Hannibal pulled back the covers and slid silently in beside him. 

“I wasn’t sure you intended for us to survive that fall”, Hannibal said. 

Will felt the words rumble through Hannibal’s chest. 

“Neither am I”.

With thought, he realized that was the first time they spoke to each other since before the fall. He realized objectively there was much to talk about, to get done. What if someone were to find them and they were sleeping? Will couldn’t find the strength to actually care, or even keep the thoughts in his mind for more than a few seconds. Future him is going to hate him for this, but they could deal with all of that tomorrow. 


	2. We're Alive, Now What?

It must be late in the morning when Will finally woke. Offensively bright light from the curtains peaked through. At first it annoyed him, but as he glanced at the bedside clock blinking the time 11:28 am at him in flashing red, that feeling eased into relief. It had been years, maybe even decades, since he can remember having slept so late. A dreamless sleep at that. No nightmares, no buckets of sweat coating his every inch. But something was missing. He looked over and there was also no Hannibal. Relief quickly melted into a sickening panic. His heart raced and that lack of sweat on his body was long gone. A sheen of it now appearing across his forehead and down his back. His mind raced with possibilities, all of which made his heart drop. Hannibal went out for some fresh air in the late night, someone spotted him and he was brought back to BSHCI. Maybe he didn’t trust Will to truly want to leave with him so he left on his own, never to be seen again. Maybe he went out hunting and was finally bested by his prey.

Noise coming from outside the door pulled him from his mind. Maybe it was Hannibal, after all, it was late in the day and he doesn’t seem the type to sleep in. Or maybe it wasn’t. Slowly getting up, he grabbed a bookend from the shelf in the room and creeped out. He wasn’t taking any chances. It was heavy enough to kill someone with force, and after a good night's sleep and a hefty dose of adrenaline, he could probably kill someone without it. Especially if they had hurt Hannibal. 

Creeping out the door, he could hear the sounds more clearly. A sizzling and the thud of knives hitting something. Looking out the window beside him, he expected to see the still rotting corpse of the dragon they slayed together the night before. It wasn’t there. His jaw hurt from clenching his teeth and his mouth was dry with fear. The bloodstains were there, but where was the body? It could just be Hannibal, he repeated to himself over again. But a paranoid voice in the back of his head said it might be Dolarhyde. He knew logically it was impossible. They killed him. There was no way anyone would survive what they had done to him. But he had been known to hallucinate. 

Finally working up the strength to turn the corner, he gripped the bookend tighter, knuckles white with building fear and anger. Looking out from behind the wall he was ready for round two of a fight. Possibly to avenge Hannibal. Though the thought of that made a chill run up his spine and settle in so deep it made his stomach ache. But when he finally looked at who was in the house, it was only Hannibal working away in the kitchen. Of fucking course it was. He put the bookend down in a relieved thud, bringing Hannibal’s attention to him. Hannibal smiled at him over a pan of what he assumed to be a dragon omelet. He had to laugh at himself. 

Approaching Hannibal with a chuckle, he stands before him, watching him work. It was as if no time passed - teleported back to his kitchen where they had cooked the remnants of Randall Tier together, though he had thought it was Freddie. 

“What’s funny?”, Hannibal asked, amused.  
“Nothing. Just”, he trailed off. It sounded stupid now, the fear he had felt. “Good morning”, is all he elected to say.  
“Good morning”, he smiled. “Take a seat”.  
He gestured to the counter, dividing up the contents in the pan, handing him a cup of coffee. He smiled tightly in thanks.  
I guess it’s time to deal with it, Will thought to himself. How to even start this conversation, he didn’t know. 

“What are we gonna do”, is all he could think to ask.  
“Let's not worry about that just yet”, Hannibal said between bites.  
How he can be so calm and sure of everything all the time was beyond Will’s understanding.   
“As much as I’d love not to, we have to. Dolarhyde’s blood stains are just sitting there - body excluded”, he looks down at his now half-empty plate. “Someone’s bound to find us. And soon. I'm surprised they haven't already”.   
“I've kept this place a secret for many years. I estimate we have another day until Jack and the FBI comes knocking. Plenty of time”.  
“Plenty of time for what?”  
“That is the question”.

They look at each other. That was the question, wasn’t it? Will hadn’t thought this far ahead in the plan. Jump off the cliff and die. That was the plan. What now?  
“I assumed I was to go back to the Boston State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, am I not?”  
Will just looked at him.  
“If you don’t know the answer to that by now I'm going to start questioning your intelligence, Doctor Lecter”.  
After all they went through together last night, he still had doubts. Will didn’t blame him, of course, considering their history, but he had to know. He had to, didn’t he?  
“Forgive my hesitance. The last time it seemed we were on the same page, much blood was spilt”.  
“Yeah. Mine. I don’t intend on that happening again”.   
“So what do you suggest we do?”  
“You’re the one with the answers, not me. What do you suggest we do?”  
“Well”, he started, still hesitant. “I have many fail-safes in place. You’d be amazed at what one can accomplish while behind the walls of a cell”. He paused, looking up into Will’s eyes. “Actually, I believe you know the feeling far too well”.   
Will ignored that last part. There wasn’t time to unpack all of that.   
“Fail safes like what? Where can we go?”  
It wasn’t surprising that Hannibal had backup plans and backup plans for the backup plans. What is surprising is that he has a way out of this. It wasn’t like how it was before when he left for Italy. No one knew his face. But now thanks to Chilton and the oh so clever ‘Hannibal the Cannibal’, everyone does. 

“You’d really leave with me? Is this really the life you want for yourself? You have a wife and a child back home waiting for you. You can still leave”. He paused, almost as if preparing himself for his next words. “I'd keep your secrets you know. Mr. Dolarhyde could be all my fault if you wish. As I said to Margot, what’s one more stricken life to my name?”  
“Hannibal”. Will stopped speaking for a moment, unsure what to say. How to convey how completely he doesn't want to continue life without him. “It’s true, I have a wife and a child. I have a life, a pretty good one. But you know I can’t go back to them. You made sure of that. And I don't want to”.   
Hannibal’s eyes were still set on his, devouring every word.  
“They deserve better than me. Molly and Walter are strong, they can move on from this. From you. The influence you had over their lives, even from behind a cell wall. But I can’t. You know I can't”.   
Will hesitantly reached across the table and placed a hand on Hannibal’s arm.  
“I’m with you now Hannibal. I think we’ve finally blurred enough to be inseparable. Dolarhyde was the final catalyst”. 

“This means you’ll have to keep running. All your life you’ll have to keep running if you leave with me. Before you could always go back, there was an out for you. Whether it be claiming psychological manipulation, a disease, or playing the victim, you could always run back to Jack. But if you leave now there would be no more outs Wil”. Hannibal held his gaze. “I’d try my best to lighten any punishment you got onto myself, but there would only be so much I could do”.  
“I know what it means. I know what it means legally, I know what it means socially. I know what it means for the rest of our lives and I'm still here. I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere. Not again. I should’ve gone with you before-”  
“You weren’t ready before”. Hannibal cut him off.   
“But I'm ready now”. It wasn't a question. He knew he was, but he still needed Hannibal to confirm it. To verify that they were finally, after all these years, all of the pain, all of the back and forth, on the same page.   
“Yes”. 

They ate the rest of the meal in silence. Will was putting all his faith in Hannibal to get them out of this. As little questions asked as possible. He figured it was for the best. Hannibal was the planner, and whatever he figured out for them, even if it was a tiny shack in the middle of the frozen tundra, would be okay with Will, as long as they were together. Of course he’s not going to tell Hannibal this just yet, his ego doesn’t need any more inflating.


	3. God I Hate Waiting

They were to leave at sunset. Safer to travel in the dark, according to Hannibal anyway. Hannibal spent the afternoon gathering supplies while giving Will small tasks to do. There was no point in cleaning up the blood or disposing of Dolarhyde’s remains. Even to the most incompetent of officers, it’s painfully obvious by now how he was killed, and by who. So while Hannibal prepared his car with an extra gas canister, some spare tires, and a cooler of food, Will packed their bags. Pack lightly but preparedly is what Hannibal said to him. What the hell does that even mean? 

He managed to pack a week's worth of clothes for each of them, when they ran out, they’d just have to stop at a laundromat somewhere. The image of Hannibal putting quarters into a communal washing machine was delightful. It was difficult to find things for Hannibal that didn’t pull attention. His wardrobe was anything but subtle. 3 pairs of jeans, 7 boxers, 3 t-shirts, 2 long-sleeves (flannels for Will), and a jacket, in each of their bags. He threw in a suit and tie for each of them as well. He didn’t know why or if they would ever need them, but he felt that Hannibal would appreciate it.

There was a safe in the basement filled with cash, fake IDs, and passports. Will was instructed to grab that too. He looked at his fake and wondered how Hannibal managed to have it made. Was it made years ago, or did he somehow send for it while in BSHCI, hoping that one day he and Will would run away together? 

William Lawrence and Dr. Elijah Adomaitis were their new aliases. Of course, even his fake identity is a pretentious doctor. But he was glad Hannibal let him keep his name. He wondered how they would be getting out of the country. No doubt airports have them both on a ‘do not fly’ list by now. He supposed they could take a train, but he couldn’t picture Hannibal doing that. Even when running from the cops he would insist on only the best. It was maddening and endearing, and kind of funny. 

Will’s nerves were on fire by the time evening hit. Every bone in his body was telling him they should’ve ran a long time ago. They could’ve been in a different state by now.  
“What’s wrong”, Hannibal asked him, looking up from his book, sensing his anxiety.   
“We should leave”.  
“And we will”, he glanced at his watch. “In 3 hours”.  
“Hannibal”, he said.  
“I realize it’s anxiety-inducing, the waiting. But we must do it. If we leave now in the daylight, especially at rush hour, we run the risk of being seen”.  
“And if we wait, we run the risk of being caught”.  
“We won’t be”, Hannibal said, simply.   
“How are you so calm”, Will snapped. He wished he could be like that, never-phased.   
“There’s simply no point in worrying over things that we can’t control. If people come - though I highly doubt they will - we kill them. Plain and simple”.  
“Maybe if this was just any other day, I’d ease at that. But we’re both injured, Hannibal. And how are we going to manage to get far enough away. Everyone knows your face from Chilton’s book, and lots of people know mine from my trial. We’ll be on every ‘do no board’ list for every mode of transportation in the state by now”. 

Hannibal sighed heavily and put down his book. He gestured for Will to sit next to him. Will did.  
“I understand you’re nervous. But you have to trust me. I have a plan for us”.  
“Great. Mind sharing it with the group?”, Will said.  
Hannibal stayed silent.   
“I tried taking on that ‘whatever will be will be’ mentality and letting you take care of things, but it’s just too maddening. I need to know. I need a plan. Without one I feel like I'm going insane”.   
“Alright”, Hannibal said softly, putting a hand on Will’s arm in an attempt to calm him. Will tried to lean into it, resting his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. “Bedelia”.  
Will looked up again. “Bedelia? That’s your whole plan?”. He was starting to get angry again. He told himself it wasn’t jealousy.   
“No, not the whole plan. Just a part. I want to eat her”.  
Will took a deep breath to calm himself. He understood. Hannibal needed to eat Bedelia. To have that closure and move on. The thought of it actually made Will kind of excited. But then what?  
“Eat Bedelia and then…?”.   
“And then leave”. Hannibal simply said.  
“Oh, gee. Thank you, Doctor. I could never have come to that striking conclusion on my own. But where exactly?”  
“Honestly Will, I don’t know. I have many houses across many countries. I was going to wait and see whichever would be best. We could go up north to Labrador. I have a piece of land with a relatively cozy home there, miles from anyone else. It’s fairly unpopulated up there”.  
“Sounds nice”, Will said dreamily, lost in thought imagining a life there.  
“However I also own a home in Argentina. Also far from civilians. Less rustic and more open, breezy”.  
“That also sounds lovely”.  
“I have a property in Iceland. I’m less fluent in the language compared to others, but it has many borrowed words from others I speak, so I believe I’d pick it up fairly quickly. It’s a farmhouse - which I modernized, of course”  
“Of course”, Will jumped in rolling his eyes.  
“There’s plenty of land. An orchard, definitely overgrown by now, but probably saveable. As well as a lake behind the home”.   
“That sounds perfect”, Will said, head tilted in a daydream, putting an image with the picture Hannibal painted in his mind.  
“Then that’s where we’ll go”.  
“Wait, what? I thought you just said you didn’t know”.  
“Well I didn’t, but your reactions gave some wonderful insight into where you would be happiest. I’ve been to all those places before, so I can settle in any of them. It’s you that I wish to make feel at home”.  
“I can settle anywhere too, with you”. 

Will realized what he said when it was too late. He’d never said anything that open to Hannibal before. Sure, he’d been very honest about his feelings to others, but never to Hannibal’s face. He thought it would feel exposing, but it just felt nice. He can tell Hannibal anything.   
“I have no doubt you can”, Hannibal smiled up at him, soft and warm, like he did once upon a time, in the art gallery in Italy. “But the other houses I described to you, you said were merely ‘lovely’, I think, if we are to live anywhere, it should be the one you described as ‘perfect”’.   
Will didn’t even respond. Just smiled and placed his head back on Hannibal’s shoulder. 2 hours and 43 minutes until they’re on the road.


	4. Bedelia De-Meal-ia

Bedelia’s house wasn’t far from where they were. Only a half-hour drive while taking backroads. The main roads were filled with police cars. Hannibal was driving while Will was in the passenger’s seat. The car wasn’t anything too flashy, thank god, and the back was stocked with their bags and supplies. To the untrained eye, they could be two men on their way to a camping trip. 

“What’s in this bag”, Will questioned after mere minutes on the road. Usually, he didn’t mind riding in silence but his nerves were still getting to him. There was a black bag behind his seat. Not anything Will packed, and definitely not a cooler or a gas canister like Hannibal said he was packing.  
“That’s for Bedelia”, he merely replied.  
“Do you think you could maybe start elaborating a bit more? I swear with you it’s either a whole novel coming out of your mouth or barely anything at all”.   
Hannibal chuckled.  
“For when we cook her. I assumed Bedelia wouldn’t have nearly enough of the things we would need in her own kitchen. So I brought some of my own. As well as things to help with the preparation of the meat, of course”.  
“Did you just say, when we cook her?”  
“Yes. I would like for us to do it together. That is, if you wouldn’t mind, of course”.  
“I’m not sure how great of a cook I am, but I’ll try”.  
“That’s all I ask of you”.

They made it to Bedelia’s house without being stopped. However, there was an FBI vehicle guarding in front of her house when they pulled up.   
“Great. What do we do now?”, Will asked.  
“She has a back door. It’s unlocked”.  
“How do you know?”  
“She’s expecting me”.

Hannibal pulled the car around back and he was right, the back door was unlocked. When they entered her home, she really was waiting for them. Sitting cross-legged in an armchair in her living room, already more than half-way through a bottle of probably very expensive wine. The air also smelled of cigar smoke. She’s been preparing for this.   
“Hello, Bedelia. How are you?”, Hannibal said, casual as ever, sitting in the chair across from her.  
“As good as to be expected. And you?”, she replied, half-heartedly after another sip of wine.  
“I’m very well, thank you. I assume you know why we’re here”. He glanced over at Will holding the black bag from the car.  
“Yes”.  
“Alright then. I suppose we should begin”. He cleared the top of her desk and placed a sheet for her to lay on, and gestured towards it. “If you will”.   
Bedelia downed the last of the wine in a quick gulp before making her way towards the makeshift operating table.  
Hannibal took the bag from Will and started to set up. 

He dragged a little table and put it beside where Bedelia was laying, placing scalpels, a bone saw, and other operating tools onto it. Next, he took out a vial of clear liquid and a large needle.   
“You needn’t worry”, he said looking down at her. “You won’t feel a thing”.   
“I’m not worried. ”.  
“You’re taking this well, Bedelia”, Will said, approaching her, standing on the other side of the desk.  
“There’s no point in pretending this hasn’t been a long time coming. I’ve been prepared for a while. No one gets involved with Hannibal Lecter and lives very long”.  
Will thinks that she meant it to be a warning towards him. He knew he and Bedelia have had their little rivalries in the past, but she was a good therapist. He almost felt bad to see her like this. Almost. 

“This is merely a tranquilizer”, Hannibal explained to her as he injected her with the needle. “I have stronger anesthesia in my bag for when you’re asleep, to keep you unconscious”.  
Bedelia smiled at him as he took the needle out of her skin. He and Will watched as her eyes flitted shut.   
“Alright. Will, if you would”. He gestured to the bag.   
“What do you need?”.  
“The IV kit. As well as the plastic tube to keep her airway open”.  
Will passed him the supplies and watched as Hannibal connected a tube to a syringe of more clear liquid, and then to a needle on the other end. He inserted the needle into Bedelia’s hand and squeezed the liquid into her.  
“General anesthesia”, he explained. “Can you keep her mouth open for me?”  
Will opened Bedelia’s slack jaw wide as Hannibal slid the tube in.  
“Familiar”, Will remarked at seeing Hannibal move the tube down her throat.   
Hannibal looked up and smiled at him as if fondly remembering their messy past.   
“This will keep her airway from closing. It will keep her alive”.   
“Why does she need to be kept alive? I thought we were here to cook her. Doesn’t she need to be, you know, not alive for that?”.  
Hannibal laughed a little. “I considered killing her entirely, but we’re only going to be eating a piece of her. And to kill her all together while only taking a piece seems wasteful, and quite rude. No, we’re taking her leg. She will remain alive”.   
“And you’d be okay with that? With only taking a piece?”, Will was skeptical. Hannibal likes to consume things in their entirety. Not gluttonous, but to honour. Nothing left unused.  
“Yes”, he said, taking a scalpel from beside him. “We could always come back later. Now would you please preheat the oven at 350 degrees for me? And ready the ingredients as well? They’re in the bag along with the recipe”.   
Will was a little disappointed. He’d wanted to watch. Though he assumed Hannibal had his reasons for not letting him. He smiled and nodded, grabbing the bag and bringing it to the kitchen.

Bedelia’s kitchen was a lot like the one at the cliff house. Not as fully stocked, as Hannibal assumed, but the appliances were clean and modern. Not exactly as fancy as the ones in Hannibal’s kitchen, but good enough so he’ll be happy with them. 

The recipe is for a garlic and rosemary lamb leg. Sounds delicious. And of course, even his recipes go into so much detail, though he doubts Hannibal needs it all written out like that, he thinks to himself while looking down at the recipe card. It calls for: 1 (7-pound) semi-boneless leg of lamb, aitchbone removed, fat trimmed to 1/4 inch thick, and tied. Hannibal is working on that right now. Then 4 garlic cloves, 1 tablespoon fine sea salt, 2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary, 1/2 teaspoon black pepper, and 1/4 cup dry red wine. All ingredients were found neatly tucked into the bottom of the now-empty black bag, along with another bottle of wine, likely to go with the dinner itself. Will opened the wine and decided to pour himself a small glass, they’re only going to be having a glass with dinner anyways, and amputations can take a while.

He dropped the wine glass he had gotten from Bedelia’s cupboard at the sound of the bone saw starting up. And just as it started, it stopped as quickly.  
“Are you alright”, Hannibal called from the other room.   
“Yes. Fine, thanks. Just dropped a glass”, he called back.  
“Are you sure?”.  
Will touched the scar at the top of his head at the memory of a bone saw drilling through his skull. It’s all in the past now, he reminded himself.  
“Yes, I’m fine. Go back to what you were doing. I’ll sweep this up”.   
The bone saw started up again and Will took in a steadying breath. He was just glad it was only the glass he dropped and not the bottle. He wouldn’t want to be the one to ruin this meal for Hannibal. He’s been looking forward to it for probably longer than they’ve known each other. Though he doubts Bedelia would be short on wine if he had to go looking for some. He poured out two small glasses of the wine. It was something called Sauvignon Blanc. On the recipe sheet, it said that it blends well with the herbs in the meat. He didn’t have Hannibal’s extensive palate, but it was alcohol and that’s good enough for Will. 

He brought it out to Hannibal after he heard the bone saw stop. Though, probably shouldn’t be drinking, considering he’s performing surgery. Will placed it next to a little table he sat next to as he watched Hannibal work. He’s brought back to earlier in time, as he watched Hannibal stick his hands in the body of a patient they found in an ambulance while working on a case all those years ago. He saw it then, just as he sees now, the blood on his shirt and hands, concentrating on his work, was breathtaking. The Chesapeake Ripper indeed. He had placed the now completely severed part of the leg onto a separate table. Bedelia now in three pieces. A foot, a shin, and her unconscious body lying on the blood-soaked desk. He wonders if she knows she’s to wake up, or if she assumed today would be her last. Would she be upset Hannibal only took a leg and not her life? Or grateful?

Hannibal finished wrapping the remnants of Bedelia’s leg, and left her on the table, bringing the leg into the kitchen.   
“What are you going to do with her foot?”, Will asked. He’s fine with eating human, doesn’t mind it at all actually. But he has no desire to eat a foot.   
“I’ll just be leaving it this time. Usually I try to eat what I can and clean up the rest, but now there’s really no point. Call it a present for Jack”.   
Will smiled. “How long do you think we have until someone shows up?”.  
“A while. Bedelia will be under for at least another hour, and even then, she won’t call anyone. It takes an hour and a half to cook, so we’ll have some time for ourselves. No need to worry”.   
Will glanced over at the recipe sheet then back to Hannibal.  
“So where do we start?”.


	5. I Had to Google Average Boat Speeds for This (Not Fun)

Hannibal was checking the meat when Will saw Bedelia start to stir on the table.  
“Should only be about fifteen more minutes”, Hannibal called to him from the kitchen.   
Will rose from the armchair he was sitting in and walked over to see Bedelia with heavy hooded eyes, just barely open.  
“She’s awake”, Will said to Hannibal, as he walked out from the kitchen.   
“I didn’t expect to wake”, Bedelia said as her eyes focused on Will. she looked down at her leg, or lack thereof, and sighed. “I suppose I know what we’re having for dinner tonight”.  
“You’re not expected to participate in the meal if you do not wish. I’ve brought you oysters as a substitute”, Hannibal said, putting an arm on her shoulder.   
Bedelia said nothing, just held out a hand to the wine glass Will was holding. He gave it to her, it was gone in seconds.   
“I’m gonna need a lot more of that”, she said.

The meal was less awkward than Will anticipated. Bedelia stuck to the oysters of course, but other than that the conversation was normal. As normal as to be expected when one’s dining with Hannibal the Cannibal Lecter.   
“So the Dragon has been slain”, Bedelia said after sucking down an oyster.   
“Indeed he has”. Hannibal looked at Will at that moment, remembering. Granted it was only a day ago that the Great Red Dragon proved himself not so great at all, but it still felt so raw. Almost too intimate an act to be speaking about it with Bedelia. It was theirs, him and Hannibal’s, not hers.   
“I take it this means I’m out of the woods”, she said, sipping more wine. How she’s not drunk yet Will won’t ever understand. “For now, I mean”.  
“Yes, for now. We may come back for you yet. Someday”, Hannibal said to her as if discussing the weather.  
“I’m looking forward to it”.   
He guesses she probably was. At least then the threat won’t be dangling above her head anymore.   
“I’m going to ask you to call Jack Crawford after we leave”, Hannibal said. “After we leave”, he said again.  
“Here you are in my house, eating a piece of my body, and yet you still ask me a favour?”, Bedelia looks at him over her glass.  
“That does seem a little unfair of me. How about this. I leave you with a promise that if - when - we come back for you, you will leave with your life, and you call Jack for us. Tell him we were here and now we’re gone”.  
She thought this over. Will knew there was no game, he was being genuine. Hannibal always keeps his promises. But does she even want the promise of life? What else would Hannibal take from her that would leave her wanting her life?  
“Very well. I have his number. I’ll call him when I see your car pull away”.  
“Thank you”, he said, lifting another bite of leg to his lips. 

“That was very good, thank you”, Will said as they were preparing to leave.   
“You helped”.  
Will chuckled. “I suppose. If chopping up garlic counts as helping”.  
He looked back into the mess they were leaving Bedelia with. A bloodstained sheet on her desk. A soiled bone saw to the left of it. And a foot, wrapped in another sheet, for Bedelia’s sake, next to a duffle bag filled with medical used supplies. There was more than enough here to finally fully incriminate him, to show Jack and the FBI what he truly is. That he was always meant to be. There was no going back now. And he never wants to again.   
He smiled at the mess of it all. He made his mark and Jack won’t be able to twist the narrative anymore.   
“Let’s go”, he said to Hannibal as he finished taking in the scene.   
“Goodbye Bedelia. We’ll see each other again someday”, Hannibal said to her as they left. 

Sitting in the car now, Will realized just how little of a plan they truly have. He guessed Hannibal had some semblance of direction because of his calm demeanor, but that’s how he always is.  
“You don’t need to worry Will. I told you, I do have a plan”.   
“Yes, you keep saying that. Maybe someday I’ll get to hear it”.  
Hannibal simply chuckled and drove off.  
“Bedelia would have called Jack by now. He’s more than likely on his way as I speak. Probably get there in about 15 minutes with his sirens on. So I estimate a half-hour until someone catches on to us”.  
“Great. So we have a half-hour to get to Iceland. That sounds so doable”.   
It takes him 1 minute of driving to realize where they're going. And it’s so obvious now that he doesn’t know why he didn’t see it before.   
“We’re taking my boat”. It wasn’t a question. He recognized the drive up to the docks on his many fishing trips over the years. He had lots of time to fish with the FBI no longer knocking at his door or Hannibal trying to kill him every 5 minutes.   
“Yes. It’s the safest way to Iceland without foot traffic or security. And even a helicopter would be hard-pressed to search the entire North Atlantic Ocean for a tiny boat”.  
“You think we’ll be able to make it all the way there on this thing?”, Will asked, pointing to the boat out the window as they approached the dock.   
“We can mostly make it. If we need to make a rest stop along the way there are many islands we could stop at”.  
Will was never good with geography so if there were any islands between Baltimore and Iceland, he wouldn’t know. He doesn’t even know how long it’s going to take them to get there. Not like they have any pressing plans anyway.

It wasn’t a big boat, but it would suffice. For a little while at least. She survived her trip to Italy, why should she fail him now?   
They stocked their supplies from the car into the boat, taking another five minutes to get everything ready. The time crunch was making him nervous.  
“Woah, what are you doing?”, Will said, as he watched Hannibal climb back into the car's driver seat.  
“Not to worry Will, I’ll be back. I’m just driving the car up into the trees to buy us more time. We don’t need to leave them too many clues as to where we are. As incompetent as the FBI has been in the past, Jack is very persistent. I have complete faith that he’ll have a general idea of our whereabouts without a large vehicle to scream it at him. I won’t be a minute”.  
“You said we only had a half-hour until he caught our trail, it’s already been 23 minutes. We should go now. We should’ve gone long before”.  
“I won’t be a minute”, he repeated and drove the car off into the trees.  
Yes the trees surrounding the dock were very close, and yes it was irrational to want to just leave the car for all to see, Will couldn’t care less. He just wants to go. To be on the water and put as much distance between them and Baltimore as possible. 

Hannibal returned from the trees much longer than his proposed minute. Though he supposed with having to drive the car deep into the trees, cover the tracks, and then walk back it makes sense it would take some time. He still didn’t like it though. Now their time limit is down to 2 minutes until it’s been a half-hour since Bedelia’s. Is it insane to keep track, yes. He knows Hannibal was just estimating, and that it will probably take Jack more than 30 minutes to be within shooting distance of them. Still, the farther they get, the better he’ll feel.   
“Now’s not the time for walking Hannibal”, Will said, nearly pushing him into the boat once he was close enough.  
“We have time, Will. I’m here, now we can leave”.  
“Finally”, he said, jumping into the boat and untying it from the docks.

The water was calm. At least something is. Even though they were far enough from the docks that they weren’t even in seeing range anymore did nothing to ease his fears. They could still be caught. Hannibal could still go back into his cage, and now he could get one of his own to match. He wondered if they would put their cells next to each other. Would they be able to talk through the wall like he could with Gideon? Or would they seal Hannibal away from him forever, some sort of extra punishment? Maybe they would put their cells across from one another, in a ‘you can look but can’t touch’ sort of taunting. He’s not sure which he would prefer.   
“Do you think they’ll be able to track us”, he said, finally. “And be honest”.  
Hannibal was sitting on the deck across from him as he steers the boat. The darkness still covered them. It wasn’t dangerous for him to be out in the open yet and by the time daylight comes they’ll likely be far from any spots populated by fishermen.  
“I think maybe one day we’ll be found. Not by Jack necessarily, but someone. Wanted posters are pesky things. But not anytime soon”, he said as calmly as usual. “One day meaning like in a year or one day meaning a decade? Or are both of those guesses optimistic?”. He realized he just insinuated they would be together in a decade. He stopped himself from being embarrassed. He wants that, and he knows Hannibal wants that too, so why shouldn’t he say it?  
“If we keep our heads low I’d say we have many happy years ahead of us before we need to go somewhere else. Even then, as I’ve said, I have properties scattered in many countries, so we’ll never not have somewhere to go”.  
Will finds comfort in his words. We’ll never not have somewhere to go. That was a new feeling for him. It was a good one.  
“What are the odds anyone knows we’re headed up North? I don’t know why I keep asking you as if you know everything. But you kind of do”, he added.  
Hannibal chuckled. “I’m grateful you have faith in my all-seeing knowledge. I’d guess no one could predict this. It was a random choice after all. South is the obvious choice for us, at least that’s what all those prison break movies suggest is the obvious choice. So I’m glad we forwent Argentina. I have no emotional connection to Iceland as I have to Italy, which is how they found me the first time. And I have no familial ties as I do in Lithuania, how you tracked me. It will take them years to find us, and by then Jack may have given up and gone into early retirement”.   
“Wishful thinking”, Will said.  
“Perhaps”.

“Do you know where we’re going”, Will finally asked. Probably way later than he should have.  
“You’re the one driving the boat”, Hannibal replied.  
“Yes, because you don’t know how to sail. I don’t know where the hell Iceland is”.  
He’s panicking now. They’ve been on the water for hours now and they might have to turn around. All he knows is that they’re headed North.   
“We’re going the right way. I’ll let you know when we need to be steered”.  
His heartbeat slowed again and his breathing went back to normal. One of these days that man is going to kill him, whether it be by his own hand or by inducing a heart attack.  
“You could’ve just said that”.  
“Yes I suppose I could have. But I do enjoy torturing you”.   
Will suppressed the spread of warmth that invaded his body at that statement.  
“Do you know how long it’ll take to get there?”, Will asked, changing the subject.  
“With the speed, we’re going, straight to Iceland would take us around 13 days. But we’ll need to stop to sleep and fuel up the boat so we’ll need to factor in another 4 days just to be thorough. All in all, we should be there and settled in a little over half a month”.  
“Half a month. That’s not so bad”.  
Half a month with no one but Hannibal to keep him company, sharing a bed with him, eating with him, talking with him. He smiled. “Yeah, not bad at all”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the link to the lamb leg recipe I used for this chapter: https://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/leg-of-lamb-with-garlic-and-rosemary-105020


	6. Canada, Eh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I stopped editing so if there's errors or weird things I didn't pick up on, oops

The water’s been smooth for the next few days of their trip. All in all, it’s been pretty uneventful. Will’s finding himself breathing easier with each passing mile they put between them and Baltimore. They switch between sleeping shifts so they never have to anchor for too long. Only when they eat together does Will anchor the boat and stop their travels. The major news outlets have caught on to Hannibal’s escape, assumed alive, armed, and dangerous. His picture is on every news website along with the numbers for local authorities, to be called immediately upon spotting. DO NOT ENGAGE in bold letters underneath his name. Will on the other hand is surprised to learn that there’s no wanted poster of him with the phrase ‘armed and dangerous'. There should be. Instead, he’s simply a missing person, presumed dead. Disappointing. Did Bedelia leave out the part where he was the one who handed him the bone saw? Maybe it’s just a ploy to lure him into a false sense of security. Or maybe Jack is deeper in denial than he previously thought. Either way, the media is presenting him as a little lamb that got caught in the fray. An innocent slaughtered by the great Hannibal the Cannibal.  _ Tattle Crime,  _ on the other hand, has a different story. The right story. He knows now that Freddie Lounds was always right, in a way. “ _ Escaped Convict Hannibal Lecter and FBI Special Agent Will Graham On The Run”.  _ Of course, some of her facts were off, but the general premise is correct. He and Hannibal are on the run together. He and Hannibal are murderers, are cannibals, are armed and dangerous. 

“We’re going to have to stop for fuel soon”, Hannibal says, coming up from below deck.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere. Where are we going to find somewhere to fuel up?”, Will said, closing his laptop from the website. 

“We’re coming up close to the Atlantic Canadian provinces. We can stop up in Labrador, fuel up, and rest in the property I have there. We should also go for a supplies run while we’re there”. 

“Alright. Yeah, I guess that’s a good idea. Where exactly in Labrador?”

“Happy Valley Goose Bay”.

Will chuckled at that.  _ Happy Valley _ . It won’t be too happy if its residents ever meet Hannibal the Cannibal, the Chesapeake Ripper, il Mostro. 

“It’s barely populated. Just over 8000 people I think. So it should be easy to avoid public eye. If you start turning just a little to the left we should be there by sundown”. 

Will turned the boat slightly left and trusted that Hannibal knew where they were going. With no protest after the first ten minutes of his steering, he assumed he was going in the right direction. 

By the time they came up to seeing land, it was in fact sundown. Better this way, Will thought, it’s easier to get by in the dark anyway. He pulled up to the docks and fastened the boat to posts. 

“How are we going to do this?”, Will said, seeing a dock worker up ahead. 

They were out of the boat now and to the untrained eye, they looked as if they had every right to be where they were. Will’s boat still had various fishing gear and equipment scattered on the deck, and evening fishing is nothing for dock workers to raise the alarm about.

“Just follow me”, Hannibal says. As if he was planning on doing anything but. 

“Hey there”, the dock worker called to them, friendly as ever. 

“Hello”, Hannibal replied in his usual friendly tone. He didn’t look suspicious, his usual suits instead wearing a pair of jeans and a plain long sleeved shirt that Will packed for him. But his face has been plastered all over the news for a week. He assumed that type of publicity didn’t stop at the United States border. 

“What brings you folk here so late?”, the dock worker asked. 

Will assumed it was best to stay quiet and let Hannibal do the talking, lest they contradict each other's answers. 

“Late night fishing”, Hannibal said with a smile. “I’m afraid we weren’t able to catch anything”.

“Nah, you wouldn’t on this dock. It’s mostly used as a passage between boats coming and going from the States”. 

Will gulped hard.

“Well, we better let you get back to work unless there’s anything else”.

“Alright, have a nice night you two”, the dockworker waved them off before approaching another boat. 

“You really need to relax”, Hannibal told him as they walked away from the docks to the upcoming road.

“Thank you, Doctor. Is that your professional opinion?”, Will snapped. As he looked onto the road, it then hit him again where they, what they were doing, and why. The only thing left up to question is  _ how _ ? How were they going to get the fuel for the boat? How were they going to get to Hannibal's property? They don’t have a car and they don’t know any bus routes. They should go back down and ask the dock worker if he has the bus schedule. They were lucky the first time, was it worth the risk of being recognized?

While questioning everything that’s ever happened to him, a taxi pulled up to where they were standing. Will’s been through enough to know by now that with Hannibal involved there’s really no such thing as luck.

“How the hell did you do that?”, Will asked him as Hannibal beckoned him into the car. 

Hannibal whipped out a phone that he apparently has and waved it at him.

“I’m not even gonna ask”, Will said. He was just relieved they wouldn’t have to walk who knows how many miles to Hannibal’s property in the chilly Canadian air. 

Holy shit they’re in Canada. Holy shit, he’s a fugitive in Canada. Holy shit. He’s a fugitive in Canada running away with his Cannibal friend. 

_ Friend? _ He sighed audibly. ‘ _ I’m gonna have to go down that road someday. But not tonight’,  _ Will thought to himself _.  _ For now, they were running away together and that’s all that needs to be known. 

Will knows it’s useless to ask where they’re going, so he doesn’t. He just looks out the window at the passing trees and houses scattered along the road. It’s not so different from Wolftrap. Hannibal is sitting beside him, sketching something in his notebook. Will’s not sure why he would want to commit such a small stop on their journey to Iceland to memory, but he doesn’t question or say anything. 

The driver comes to a stop around a half-hour outside of what Will assumes is the ‘city’, if it can be called that. Hannibal was right about it being in the middle of nowhere. All he can see for miles is trees. Trees and grass and bugs. He assumes they were going to have to walk some time to get to Hannibal’s property. But the driver doesn’t question why they want to be dropped off seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Hannibal just pays him in the Canadian dollars he took from his safe in the cliff house and he drives off, leaving them alone. They stand there not moving until the driver is out of view. 

“I assume we’re going to have to walk through here?”, Will asks, pointing nowhere in particular among the vast amount of trees. 

“Yes, I’m afraid we are”, he says with a smile.

Hannibal starts walking into the trees making sure not to get caught on anything, and Will follows. No surprise there. 

It’s fully dark now and it feels they’ve been walking for hours. But he can’t tell because his watch is set to Baltimore time. He’s not sure about time zones, or if they even crossed one. Against his better judgment telling him it would never happen, he was starting to think Hannibal had gotten them lost. He hasn’t said anything to Will the whole time they’ve been walking, instead, focusing on navigating the forest. Which Will guesses is probably a good thing. But still, some conversation would be nice.

“Do you know how much farther?”, Will asks, breaking the silence. 

Hannibal doesn’t turn to look at him, instead comes to a full stop and inspects something on a tree trunk. 

“Not much farther now”, he replied, showing Will the red strip that was tied to the tree. A place marker. “We’re coming up on the property. Should be another five minutes”.

Five minutes until water, until he can eat something, until he can  _ sleep _ . That thought alone put some speed into Will’s step, no longer trailing slightly behind Hannibal, but coming up to match his pace.

They finally came upon the property at around 3 am Baltimore time. Judging on the light in the sky he guessed it may be earlier in Labrador. But he was still exhausted.

“You weren’t kidding. It really is miles from anyone else”, Will said. 

“Nobody will find us here”.

The house itself is similar to the one on the cliff, in size at least. The actual build is a bit more like his house in Wolf Trap, more rustic. Though not shitty looking. It’s exactly the type of home he would expect of Hannibal to call ‘cozy’. 

The inside is more impressive. He assumes it’s been vacant a long time, but even so, it’s striking. It’s fully furnished, though dusty, and is complete with a stocked library and a Hannibal-grade kitchen. He finds himself disappointed to see that there are two bedrooms. No excuse to sleep side-by-side tonight as there had been all other nights for over a week. 

“It’s very nice in here”, Will said, coming to sit on the couch next to Hannibal. He poured them each a glass of wine. He finds himself reminiscing about the night just last week. Hannibal had been shot in almost this exact position. But the wine glass stays in his hand this time, and his blood stays in his body.

“Yes. I think we’ll be comfortable here. For a few days at least”.

“How are we going to get the fuel?”, Will asks. He saw a garage attached to the house, presumably with a car to go with it. But it’s not like they could very well drive out of the woods.

“There’s a path cleared for driving not far from here. I’ll send you out tomorrow to get it. I think it would be safer for me to stay behind”.

“There’s a path made for driving yet you had us walk in the middle of the woods?”. 

“I couldn’t risk us being seen by anyone. The dock worker not questioning us was luck enough. We didn’t need stragglers on the path to talk to ask where we were going at such a late hour and run the risk of being recognized. Ms. Lounds has readers from all around the world. Both of our pictures have been subject to the scrutiny of TattleCrime for weeks now”.

He couldn’t help but agree.

It wasn’t long until Will felt he could no longer keep his eyes open. It’s a miracle he made it this long without collapsing. He wanted to ask Hannibal where he should sleep. It would be ridiculous, after all, they’ve been through, to just now start to feel awkward about boundaries. But everything about their situation is ridiculous. His whole life is ridiculous. 

“We should head off to bed”, Hannibal says. It’s like he can read minds. Though Will doubts the bags under his eyes and constant yawning are difficult to read. 

Will was about to ask which room he should sleep in when Hannibal took him by the wrist and led him to what looks to be the master bedroom. 

“Here”, Hannibal said, setting fresh clothes on the bed for him. “Change into these. There’s nothing more dreadful than sleeping in jeans”. 

Hannibal left the room allowing him to change in private. Again, ridiculous, after they’ve no doubt seen all parts of each other already, but the gesture is nice. The pajamas are even nicer. The silk slips onto his skin in a welcome slide against the scar tissue on his stomach, and the growing scar tissue on his shoulder, courtesy of the dragon.

Will's growing exhaustion finally pulls him like gravity to the soft bed. Its sheets were like stepping on a cloud. Though he guessed that may be because the past week has been spent sleeping on a rock-hard mattress on a boat, barely big enough for one person, let alone two grown men. 

A moment passed and Hannibal knocked on the door, “may I?”, he inclined his head to the bed.

“Of course”, Will pulled back the covers for him to slip under. Content that he didn’t have to sleep alone, or ask for the company. 

“It’s nice here”, Will continued, not talking directly to Hannibal per se, more just talking to fill the silence.

“Yes. I’ve only ever been here once when I bought the property many years ago. But it does have a certain charm to it”.

A beat passed and Will thought that maybe Hannibal had fallen asleep. “Why don't we just stay?”, he said, voice small.

“Stay here? Instead of Iceland?”

“Is that crazy?”, Will asks. The question is genuine, he doubts that he’s speaking with much sense. “Is it too close? I mean we’ve only been traveling a week and it’s just over the border. But”, he pauses, searching for the words, “I think it could work. It’s not so different from Wolf Trap from what I’ve seen. We don’t need to go to Iceland”. 

Hannibal pauses, considering. 

If he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to leave, then they’ll go to Iceland. Will is done making hard decisions, but he can’t deny the calming atmosphere of the woods and the homy feeling this place elicits. A few dogs and it’ll be like he never left. Like all that happened never happened. That he and Hannibal were never apart, and instead moved in together a long time ago like they were supposed to. Like they should have.

“Would you be happy here?”, Hannibal says, finally. 

“Yes. I think I would. Would you?”.

“With you, I would be happy anywhere. We will stay”.

Will lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He looks around in the bedroom where they will now be staying, indefinitely. 

This is going to work. This will work. 

“Of course we will need to stop at the store to get some things”, Hannibal continues. “This house is stocked with many things, but fresh food is not one of them. As well, we’ll have to drive to the docks and store the boat in the garage. We don’t want anyone getting too close to it. But we can discuss the details tomorrow”. 

The details of their new home life. Will wonders what it’ll be like. It is dangerously close to the border, he admits, but that elicits a strange sort of excitement in him. Excitement at the prospect of being right under everyone’s noses, but still out of reach. He wonders how long it’ll be until Hannibal starts up his ripper tendencies again. And what they’ll do in the meantime, waiting for media attention to die down.

He inches closer to Hannibal, letting his questions rest for now. They can wait until the morning.


	7. Will Graham Has a Nice Day (Finally)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here begins my poor attempt at smut-ishness. please feel free to laugh at me, I encourage it.

Will awakens to a smell of a wonderful breakfast cooking. Of course, Hannibal would figure a way to cook something no doubt delicious despite the lack of anything substantial in the cupboards. 

“Oh good, you’re awake”, Hannibal smiles at him as he enters the kitchen. He passes Will a mug filled with hot coffee and it’s possibly the best thing he’s ever tasted. Though, after a week of stale instant coffee, anything would taste good. 

“Thank you”, he mutters into the mug. 

Will digs into the plate put in front of him and  _ oh my god _ . How did he manage to make white rice, canned tomatoes, and garlic powder taste so good? He assumes there are other things in it, but holy crap, despite his flaws, that man can cook.

“This is really good”, he says. 

“Thank you, Will. Spanish rice, or my poor attempt at it, with what I had at my disposal”.

“I’ll go to the store today”, he says, finishing his plate.

It’s a little awkward now that he doesn’t have sailing the boat to focus on and a final destination to reach pulling at his mind. This is their final destination. At least for now. He knows you can never hold Hannibal Lecter down for too long.

“We’ll be okay for a day. You should stay here and rest”.

Will blinks at him. “But we need food, batteries, essentials. They’re pretty, you know, essential”.

Hannibal smiled at him and let out a soft laugh. “Yes, but we’ll be okay for a day. There’s enough here for now. Besides, we had a pretty long trek to get here. You should rest”.

Will said nothing, but continued to eat, looking down at his plate. It never occurred to him that it could be this easy. Not that what led up to being here was easy. But he figured there would be a lot more close calls, more almost losing each other again, more mysterious forces threatening to come between them and pull them apart, Hannibal trapped behind glass again, out of sight, unable to touch, forever. It's strange to be able to just rest, especially this early in their escape together. But maybe it can be this easy. Maybe he’s just looking for a reason to worry.

“What will we do, then?”, Will says, finally.

Hannibal takes his now empty plate. “Anything we like, I suppose”.

“That sounds nice”. It really does. 

“I’ll probably make sure everything here is in order. Visit some old forgotten books in the library here”, he pointed down the hall to the yet unexplored parts of the house.  _ Of course, this place has a library. Would it be Hannibal’s if it didn’t? _

Will decides to take this free-day to do some exploring. The house is very nice. Different from his apartment in Italy and his home in Baltimore. More understated, or as understated as Hannibal Lecter can get. He found the library Hannibal mentioned and wow, Alexandria has nothing on this. Shelves upon shelves of beautiful leather bound books. The wood is all dark and shiny, though a little dusty, despite the years of neglect. Will was never one for reading, it takes too quiet a mind to be able to sit and immerse yourself in a world not your own, and he spent most of his life doing that already. But he can appreciate the aesthetics of a nice library. Hannibal would be nothing without his aesthetics, Will thinks as he runs a hand over the spines of the books. 

The surrounding outdoors of the house is peaceful. He can hear a rush of running water ahead and he follows it to a little clearing through the trees, just ten minutes away. There he found a long stretch of stream, beautiful blue water surrounded by rocks. He’ll have to remember to get his fishing rod from the boat. He looks out of the corner of his eye and swears he can see Abigail there with him. He takes in the fresh air of the woods and smiles, tears threaten to leak out of his eyes. If he didn’t know any better he’d think he was once again in his mind, fishing with Abigail.

Will shakes himself out of it. She would have deserved better than this. Better than being a recluse in the woods of a small Canadian province. She deserved a life, a real one, with college, friends, and a partner. They couldn’t provide her that here. Her silhouette fades from the corner of his eye, and he’s once again alone. But he’s not alone, he reminds himself. Hannibal is here, waiting for him back at the house, their house, where they live together. 

When he gets back to the house Hannibal is sitting in the living room immersed in one of his books. He’s wearing the suit Will had packed for him. 

“How was your exploration of the grounds?”

Will smiles, remembering. “It was nice. There’s a stream up there. Did you know that?”.

“I did”, he moves over to make room for Will to sit beside him, “I knew you would enjoy it. Unfortunately I’m not sure how much luck you’ll have catching anything. It doesn’t look very plentiful”.

“That’s alright, to be honest, I enjoy the act of fishing more than the catching of a fish anyway”. 

“Are you the type to catch and release? To watch the prey think it was free only to bait it again?”.

“I’m known to deceive, I’d say”.

Hannibal looks at him with knowing eyes, he too remembering. “Yes, you are”. 

He lays a hand softly on Will’s stomach, just his fingertips grazing the fabric. Will lays a hand on top of his. A gesture.  _ It’s okay _ .  _ I forgive you _ . But he can’t say it, too much is loaded in the words now, he’s ruined them. But he knows Hannibal understands. His eyes soften, mouth quirked into a gentle smile.

“Why don’t I make us some lunch”, Hannibal says, breaking the silence.

“With what?”. It’s a genuine question. What can even Hannibal, ever the chef, make out of what little food they have here? It’s basically honey, spices, and canned vegetables. There are a few things hidden in the freezer as well.

“I told you I should have gone to the store”, Will chuckles at Hannibal’s dismay, looking at what they have in the cupboards.

“I can head out now if you’d like? I can make it quick?”

“No it’s alright”, Hannibal sighs, “I can make this work. It's a challenge. It’ll be fun to see what I come up with”. 

“I have complete and utter faith in you”.

Not an hour later did the smell of spices start to waft all through the house, causing Will’s stomach to growl. He went to investigate the delicious aroma and found Hannibal standing over a pot getting two bowls ready.

“You’re just in time. Lunch is ready”, He smiled and dished out two helpings of what looked like chili.

“It looks delicious”, Will says, all but shoving some in his mouth once he sat down. “Oh my god. How did you manage to make this? There’s basically nothing in the kitchen”.

“I’m glad you enjoy my cooking. I had to get a little creative. It’s vegetarian I’m afraid”, Hannibal’s look of pure disgust was entirely worth not taking the trip to the store. 

“Ah, I know how you feel about a nice cut of meat”.

“Well, it’s going to be much the same for dinner tonight I’m afraid. There’s only so much even I can do with only non-perishables”.

“Well we wouldn’t have this problem had I just gone to the store”, though there’s no dismay in his tone. 

“Do you regret staying in for the day?”, Hannibal asks him in between bites.

“No”, he smiles into his now-empty bowl. “It’s been nice to not have anything to do”. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re taking some time to yourself”.

Hannibal goes to collect the dishes from the table. “Let me”, Will says, putting a hand to his wrist to stop Hannibal from taking the bowl. “I mean, it’s the least I can do. You cooked it”.

He kept his hand on Hannibal for what would be considered an inappropriate amount of time, had it been anyone else. 

“We’ll do them together”, Hannibal says, finally taking his wrist back.

Will follows him into the kitchen where Hannibal is already soaping up the pots. 

“Where do you want me?”, Will asks.

Hannibal smirks, looking over his shoulder. “Just beside me is fine. You wash, I dry”. 

Will takes his place at the sink, taking the pot from Hannibal and scrubbing.

“Don’t trust me to put the dishes away on my own? You think me incompetent?”, Will says playfully. 

“I assure you, you’re anything but”.

Will hands him a now-clean bowl and splashes Hannibal with soapy water in the process. He looks down at the wet spot on his chest in distaste.

“Your fault for wearing a suit while doing dishes”, Will quips.

“You’re the one who packed it in my bag”.

“Well, maybe I just like how they look”. Will looks him up and down as he says it. 

“On me, or in general?”.

“Fishing for compliments now, Doctor? How presumptuous of you”. He smirks, eyes sparkling mischievously. “But if you must know, I do tend to find this look appealing. Though a more relaxed look doesn’t fail to suit you either”.

“Relaxed how?”, Hannibal askes. Will pretends to miss the weight with which that question was loaded. 

“Why don’t you dry off, put something else on. I know how you despise your outfits being out of place, even if it is just water”.

“And soap”, Hannibal adds.

“And soap”, Will smiles. “You needed a good cleaning anyway”, there was no bite to the jab, but Hannibal feigned hurt anyway. 

“Are you suggesting I’m neglecting to care for myself?”.

“I’m not suggesting anything, Doctor. Merely pointing out that the boat has no shower”.

“Well we’ve been on the same boat, so it seems we’re both in need of a good washing”.

Will looks down trying to hide his blush at the thought that just rushed into his head.

“So it seems”. 

Without another word, Hannibal walked away, and as Will was putting the dishes away, heard water running from the bathroom. 

Once the dishes are done Will goes back to his pressing business of nothing. He skims through a book and switches through the channels on TV, nothing holding his interest. He gets a pang of guilt at feeling bored. What more could he ask for than this life? He has nothing to worry about out here, no one trying to kill him, and nothing sucking his energy out of him with each passing day. 

“Showers free”, Hannibal says to him, interrupting his train of thought. 

Will does a double-take at the sight. Yes, he’s seen Hannibal in less than dignified situations before, but this, wow. This was one for the memory palace, for sure. He was dressed but had abandoned the suit, instead opting for a thin  _ thin  _ white t-shirt and airy black lounge pants. If he tried, Will was sure he could see the outline of his- okay nope, not doing this, not thinking about that. 

Will shook his head to get the thoughts at bay. He saw Hannibal wrinkle his brow in question, but thankfully, he didn’t press. 

He didn’t say a word to Hannibal as he walked past him and into the bathroom. It was still steamy when he entered, which did nothing to the growing heat under his collar and in this groin.

_ Ugh, why now _ , he questions himself. It’s been a week since the cliff, four years since he met Hannibal,  _ why lose control now? _ It’s because he’s just that lucky. That’s why.

He ripped his clothes off and jumped into the shower, it didn’t take long to warm up, Hannibal just having used it. He soaps himself up in an attempt to distract the growing hardness against his belly. It doesn’t work. It arguably makes things so much worse. He hesitates before taking hold of himself. He’ll have to be quiet, but it’s better to get it out now. Release the stress and this whole thinking about Hannibal thing will go away. But it doesn’t. In fact, thinking about Hannibal is what got him here in the first place, and it’s what’s currently pulling soft grunts from his throat. 

The warm water flows down his back as he grips himself. A soft moan escapes his lips, he bites down on his lip to stop the noise. He can no longer control where his thoughts go, just stroking himself under the water, stifling moans as they try to escape him. One hand snakes to the back of his head and grabs at his hair, pulling hard enough to hurt, just on the side of too much. He’s aware this is obscene, and it’ll probably be the subject of much guilt later, but now, all he can do is think about Hannibal. Hannibal’s hands, Hannibal’s voice, his chest, his- white stripes escape him onto the shower curtain at his release. He breathes out in a low guttural groan, leaning over the ledge of the tub to support himself. His legs threatened to give out under him, wobbling in time with his shaky breath. 

He finishes cleaning himself and washes the shower curtain, watching the remnants of his desire flush down the drain. Hopefully, Hannibal’s keen sense of smell won’t be able to pick this up. 

A knock on the bathroom door startles him as he’s getting out of the tub. He half expects Hannibal to barge in and berate him for succumbing to such primal wants.

“Will, I’d like to take a look at your wounds, if that’s okay”, Hannibal says from behind the door.

“I’m not dressed”.

“I’m a doctor, Will. And it’s nothing I haven’t seen”.

Will remembers Italy. He awoke at Hannibal’s table with a clean shirt and no blood anywhere. He remembers the cliff jump. The shower. The touching.

“Yeah, alright, come in”. 

The wounds have been healing pretty nicely, in Will’s opinion. The slash on his shoulder is all but scared over, and it barely hurts to move anymore. The one on his face isn’t as unsightly as he feared it would be. Will thinks in a few more weeks it will have faded to a thin line, like the one on his forehead. 

“These look good”, Hannibal says, surveying him. His fingers are grazing Wills's jawline, looking deeply into the cut on his face. He wills himself not to blush.

“What about you”, he manages to choke out. “Your bullet wound. Looked much more severe than a stupid stab to the face”, he chuckles nervously. 

“Mine is all but healed, thank you for the concern”.

He lifts up his shirt to show Will his scar. It is basically healed, still a little red, but not painfully so. 

“That’s good to hear”. 

“Well when you’re done in here, I’ve made up dinner for us. It’s just the same we had for lunch, but I re-heated it fresh”.

“Wow, never thought I’d see the day when Hannibal Lecter re-heats a meal. Did you use the microwave?”.

“Don’t be absurd Will, I used the stove, like a respectable adult”. 

Will laughs, genuinely this time. 

“I’ll be right out”.

Before long it was nightfall, and Will’s free-day had nearly come to a close. He and Hannibal were sitting on the porch together, drinking wine.

“I almost don’t want to go to sleep”, Will says, staring up at the sky.

“Do you ever?”.

“Point. It’s just, I feel like something’s going to happen. Something that will ruin this for us. Things are hardly this easy”.

“You call sailing the ocean for 6 days and eating  _ vegetarian  _ chili two meals in a row, easy?”, Hannibal askes playfully, though Will can tell he’s only half-joking.

“Well, Count Doctor Lecter, some people aren’t as accustomed to luxury like you are. This is pretty close to my ideal”.

“Pretty close? What will make this ideal? No let me guess, you would like a dog?”.

Will smiles and nods. “A few, if possible”.

“I could be persuaded”.

Will could swear he was meant to read into that but doesn’t. After his shower today it’s best to keep a safe distance away from those thoughts. 

Though it’s hard to keep away from the thoughts as they lay in bed together. Will swears he’s closer to Hannibal than they’ve ever laid together before. Though that’s probably mostly his fault. Not even subconsciously, he wants to be close to him. His warmth is comforting, grounding. 

He scoots closer to Hannibal, nearly placing his head on his chest.

“Will?”, Hannibal asks into the darkness, “are you happy?”

Will doesn’t answer immediately. Not because he doesn’t know the answer, but because the answer scares him.

“Yes”, he says finally. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the spanish rice recipe: https://www.food.com/recipe/skillet-spanish-rice-154894


	8. Nude Art is a Love Language

“Good morning”, Hannibal said. Will opened his eyes and was met with an immediate flush of horror. Somehow in the night, he managed to roll practically on top of Hannibal, his hand splayed out onto his warm chest, faces within an inch of each other.

No matter what he was feeling, Will couldn’t bring himself to move away. 

“Good morning”, he said back.

They didn’t say anything, just laid there, breathing each other in. 

He didn’t want to get up, but they had things to do today. He supposed it didn’t matter, they had the rest of their lives to lay together like this, after enough time and the danger of being caught has passed. 

They got out of bed and Hannibal’s face scrunched up as he rummaged through the cupboards.

“I’m afraid not even I can manage to make anything substantial out of what’s left in here”, Hannibal said. He pulled a can of beans and some crackers. “I’m sorry for this”, he said looking down at the sad ‘meal’ before them.

“Don’t be”, Will said, smiling at his still crinkled face, “this is more or less what I’d eat on the daily in Wolf Trap anyhow”.

“I see why you were so often at my house for dinner”, Hannibal said, finally bringing the beans to his mouth and suppressing a grimace.

“Don’t worry, we won’t have to rough it for much longer. I’m going to the store today”.

“I made a list of all we’ll need”.

He hands Will the list. It’s not too long, just the basics: fresh produce, meat, of course, some spices, batteries for appliances long out of use, gas jug for the car, and a phone. For himself, he assumes, as Hannibal already has one.

Will scooped some beans upon a cracker and happily ate it. “I don’t see why you’re fussing about this. It’s good”. Hannibal all but scoffed at him. “Though I suppose you’re more refined than I am. But we’re fugitives now, you’ll have to get used to eating like one, Doctor”.

“Just because I’m a fugitive, doesn’t mean I have to sacrifice my taste buds”.

Will huffed a laugh. 

“What will you do today?”, he asked. What he really wanted to ask was, what will we do here. If they’re staying, they can’t go out too much lest someone recognize them, but what is there to do besides sit here and wait?

“Perhaps peruse the tabloids for some information on us. Where they think we are. It’s quite entertaining”. 

“You would think that wouldn’t you?”, Will says, “you know, psychopaths often like to read about themselves in the news”, he says, though there’s only playfulness in his voice.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you check  _ Tattle Crime  _ on the boat”, he responds with a smile.

Of course, he knew about that.

“Well I should get to the store. It’ll probably take me long enough to find it, and who knows when Canadian rush hour starts?”.

Will took off to the garage. There was enough gas to make it to the store and buy more, but that’s it. The path Hannibal told him about wasn’t far. It could be seen just behind the house, but hidden enough that the untrained eye would be unaware it was even there. Hopefully, the tire tracks don’t give too much away.

The farther he got from the house the more anxious he grew. This is the longest they’ve been apart since they killed Dolarhyde. It was insane to feel separation anxiety for a man who he spent 3 years apart from, and 8 months apart before that. But there was just so much riding on them staying out of sight now. He doubts that anyone would bother taking Hannibal back into custody after all that happened. The FBI probably has orders to shoot on sight. To kill on sight. 

A shiver ran down his spine thinking about it. Going back to the house to find a pool of blood in the kitchen. Hannibal lying in the corner, eyes just barely open. Breath leaving him. Dying on the cold floor, alone, while Will is dragged into custody, finally, for crimes he did commit this time. Destined to live out his life behind glass, like Hannibal before him. He wondered if he would be given the same cell Hannibal had at BSHCI. And whether that would be a blessing or a curse. 

Before he knew it, he had driven aimlessly to a store called NorthMart in the middle of town. He had no idea what it was, but it looked promising. Probably a grocery store, if he had to guess. Hannibal had given him enough Canadian money, which he was thankful to have. He didn’t want to have to waste his time converting currency. 

NorthMart thankfully was a grocery store. And after much navigation through the unfamiliar isles, careful not to catch anyone’s eye, he was able to grab everything on the list, except for the gas jugs. He’d need to go somewhere else for that. 

Piling the groceries in the trunk, he set off to hopefully find a gas station. And after much driving, there one was. Ultramar. He filled up the car at the pump and bought three jugs of gas on top of that, just to be safe. But it was when he was on his way out the door when he saw it. A wanted poster just like the one posted on  _ Tattle Crime _ , but this one is just of Hannibal. Sharp cheekbones and grey-blond hair. Dark eyes. ARMED AND DANGEROUS, it read. Luckily his own face was nowhere to be seen. He took out the new phone he bought from NorthMart and took a picture of the poster. It’s not set up yet, but luckily the camera works, Hannibal will want to see it. He rushed out of the gas station at an alarming speed and willed himself to slow down, as to not draw any unwanted attention. 

They can’t stay here after all.

It took all his willpower not to speed on his way back to the house. He burst through the door not bothering to bring in the groceries. There’s no point. They had to leave anyway. Hannibal whipped his head around, alarmed at the sudden disruption. 

“What happened? Were you unable to find a store?”, he said, looking at the lack of bags.

“We need to leave, now”. Will whipped out his phone and showed Hannibal the wanted poster with his face on it. To Will’s surprise, he didn’t seem bothered.

“That’s not a very flattering photo”, he said, distaste written on his face. 

“Are you kidding me? That’s all you have to say?”. He shouldn’t even be surprised at this point, Hannibal got 10x bitchier after being put into custody. 

“What else is there to say? It’s not unexpected that the surrounding areas of Baltimore will be on high alert. Even across the border”.

“We need to leave”, Will repeats.

“Is that what you want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. It matters what’s the safest most logical route to take. And right now, it’s leaving”.

“For Iceland?”, Hannibal questions, though it’s rhetorical.

“For Iceland”. 

Hannibal sighs. “Very well”. He closes the book he was reading and stands, facing Will. “I assume you got fuel then, for the boat. As well as the groceries? We’re running out of food and Iceland is probably another 11 days away”. 

Will nods.

“Alright then. I suppose we should get ready to go then. We’ll leave at nightfall”. 

The thought of a little stability was nice, while it lasted. But now they had to go. 

They took a cab back to the docks, the same that picked them up, a safe distance away from the house. They took the path this time as well. Will couldn’t be talked into walking through the woods again if it killed him.

When the driver picked them up, a different one from last time, but still just as quiet, Hannibal kept his head down, never looking the driver in the eyes. He let Will do the talking this time. 

Thankfully the groceries weren’t too heavy, aside from the 3 gas jugs, but they managed. 

The docks were empty by the time they got down there. This time, avoiding any dock workers wasn’t difficult, the one on staff, again, a different one from when they got here, was occupied with an issue with a cargo ship spilling some of its contents into the water. 

“I don’t doubt we will be back here someday”, Hannibal clasps Will comfortingly on the shoulder after they clambered into the boat. He steered away from the docks, somber. Just 11 more days, he reminded himself. 11 more days and finally, finally, they’d be home. 

Will has never had a yearning for a home quite like this. He always preferred his fishing boat, the water, and waves, to any bed. But that was before he had someone to share it with. He still didn’t know what he and Hannibal were doing. Laying together, eating together, killing together. But he knew he wanted to keep doing it. In fact, he couldn’t wait until they were finally settled, finally in a place where they could get comfortable and make their mark, together. He knows it won’t be the same as it was with Dolarhyde when it does happen. It won’t be spontaneous, or even as thrilling. That was his becoming. It was special, and nothing will ever compare to that night, as long as they live. The next time will be calculated; they’ll stalk, they’ll hunt, they’ll lure. But he knows it’ll be just as passionate because they’ll do it together. 

It was several days of the same old routine on the boat. By some miracle of God, Will has grown accustomed to sharing such a small space with someone, though the fact that someone was Hannibal sure helped to ease his introverted personality into cohabitation. In turn, Hannibal has grown accustomed to Will practically using him as a mattress. Hannibal wasn’t draining to be around. Will found he quite liked the comfortable silence they often found themselves in. Not needing to talk is one of the many reasons he was drawn to Hannibal. He glanced at Hannibal’s hands as they were clenched around a pencil, drawing something, veins flexing with each stroke.  _ Ah, another reason _ .

But he’s not thinking about that reason. He can’t. The boat is too small and he can’t have a repeat of the shower incident. Hannibal would no doubt hear any  _ noises  _ it would elicit from him, and he’d rather not have that conversation. He can hear Hannibal’s voice in his head now, frustratingly mellow:  _ your desires are only human, Will. I don’t concern myself with such primal urges, but I implore you, don’t feel the need to suppress yours on my account _ . 

His accent would be thick and curving around each word. Every nerve in Will’s brain would be screaming at him to jump off the boat. Maybe then the waves would finally claim him and he would escape the conversation. 

Of course, he doesn’t think Hannibal is above such  _ primal urges _ , in fact, he knows he’s not. He gets a flash of jealousy at thinking about what he and Alana used to do, and how much he wants to do it too. But Hannibal is too classy for a quick jerk in the shower. He would probably put on some strange piece of classical music, lie in bed in some ridiculous silk robe, and stroke himself to a wonderful completion. 

Despite that thought originally intended to make fun of Hannibal, to Will’s horror, he feels himself starting to rapidly fill out the front of his jeans, constricting. 

He busies himself with steering, desperately flicking through all the channels in his mind to latch onto something else, and hopefully subside the hardness in his boxers. He keeps his back to Hannibal, who is thankfully still immersed in his drawing. Even still, he has an irrational sensation that Hannibal can see through him. Like he can sense Will’s desire for him, even with Will’s back turned and no visible cues, save for the mast in his pants, to give him away. The thought makes him shiver.

It was approaching after midnight on their 5th day at sea when Hannibal came up behind him at the wheel, tea in hand.

“Thank you”, Will smiles softly, taking the cup. The warmth it spreads through him is a welcome beacon in the chill of the night. 

“You should head off to bed, I’ll steer us for a few hours”.

“Do you know where we’re headed?”, Will asks, more just to irk him than anything. Of course, he knows, it’s Hannibal.

“I’m not incompetent”, he replies, but the softness in his voice doesn’t give way to any bite. 

Will smiles at him and clasps his shoulder before heading to the bed.

He tossed and turned for about an hour before deciding he wasn’t getting much sleep tonight. It was so difficult to sleep alone now. He couldn’t wait until they were settled in Iceland, where he could always have someone to lay with.

Rather than lie aimlessly on the mattress trying pointlessly to lull himself in a no-doubt restless and unsatisfying sleep, Will decided there must be better things to do with his time. He considered going up to Hannibal and telling him to try and get more sleep while he steered, he determined that Hannibal wouldn’t take too kindly to that, insisting that Will get some sleep and listing off all the reasons why it’s unhealthy to keep awake for so long. So instead, he went rooting through the drawers for his laptop. Hannibal is right, it’s quite fun reading about oneself in the news. And it would be beneficial to know where they’re speculated to be. With all the press coverage it’s a miracle they’re still free. That Hannibal’s still free. As far as anyone knows (to his knowledge) he, himself, is dead. 

Instead of finding his laptop, the shiny black cover neatly tucked away in the bedside table caught his eye. Hannibal’s sketchbook. He hesitated before grabbing it. It was rude to go through other’s things, he knew, and Hannibal doesn’t take too kindly to rudeness, but he grabbed it anyway, curiosity getting the better of him. The first picture was worth risking the wrath of Hannibal all together. It was a beautiful landscape drawing in charcoal, of the Italian cityscape. If Will’s memory served him right, it was the view from Hannibal’s villa from his most recent Italy trip. Will instinctively touched the scar on his forehead, fondly this time.  _ Ah, good times _ . The thought was mostly sarcastic. Mostly.

He skipped to the middle page and he audibly gasped. It was him. He knew Hannibal had drawn him before, of course, he watched as Hannibal had pressed his pencil to the paper, recounting to him the story of Achilles and Patroclus. But this drawing,  _ wow _ . It was definitely him but from his backside. From his naked backside. 

He turned the page and it was more of the same, except the angle was different. This drawing was full frontal.  _ Accurate _ , he thought. Although he assumed it ought to be accurate, Hannibal has seen him naked on a few occasions. That thought sparked a pleasant shiver down his spine. He must’ve liked what he saw to dedicate it to paper. 

“Will”, the voice came from the doorway and shocked him into dropping the sketchbook. “I came in to see how you were sleeping”.

Will stayed silent. His heart was thumping in his chest at such a rapid rate he was afraid he was having a heart attack. His breath was caught in his throat. 

“I see you’ve found my sketches”, Hannibal said, bending over to pick up the book. And of course, it didn’t close while it dropped, instead, falling open to the page Will was previously fixated on. Because he’s just that lucky. 

“I’m sorry”. Though in thinking about it, why was he sorry? Yes, he went through Hannibal’s things without asking, but Hannibal went through his brain without asking. Committed his naked form to pencil without asking. Those thoughts didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about it though. 

“You’re very skilled”, Will said after a moment of silence. 

“Thank you”. Hannibal still stood with the book open. “I suppose I don’t have a right to be mad. It’s a picture of you after all. Pictures”, he corrects. “You should be allowed to look at them”.

He offered the book back to Will with a blank expression. Will hated not being able to read him.

“I still shouldn’t have gone through your things. It was rude and I apologize”. Will is avoiding Hannibal’s piercing gaze, instead, focusing on the picture.  _ Why did he draw that? _

“No, I apologize”, Hannibal says, holding his gaze. He actually looks sad. “I’ve made you uncomfortable”.

“No”, Will says, softly. “Ok, yes, a little bit. But it’s okay, I like the pictures. They paint me in a very flattering light”. 

“It’s how I see you”, Hannibal said, walking closer to him now, sitting beside him on the bed. “You deserve to be immortalized like this. Put on display and worshipped”. Will’s face turned hot.

“Idolatry is a sin”, he said, coyness seeping through his words. 

“I think that’s the least of our worries, in regards to sinning”.

Hannibal is looking so deep into his eyes now, he’s afraid a whole is going to burn right through it.

“Are there more?”, Will grazes the edge of the paper with his fingertips.

“So much more”, Hannibal is now touching his own fingertips to the pages, lightly brushing Will’s. “And so much more to come”.

“Is that what you were drawing earlier?”, Will asked, braver now.

“Not this one in particular”.

Hannibal flipped through the sketchbook and landed on another page, near the end. 

This one too, was breathtaking, as is everything Hannibal does. It was another one of him but clothed this time. Mostly clothed. He was sprawled out on soft sheets, shirtless. with tousled hair messily curling on the pillows behind him. A blanket was haphazardly arranged, just enough to cover him between his hips, a V shape showing above it. Sunlight was filtering through the blinds behind him, a streak of the light showing on his face, making his eyes glow. His scars were prominent, the one of his stomach standing out, not enough to pull focus, but enough to complement the soft lines of the rest of his body. The scar on his forehead a faint line, and the scar on his cheek, the newest in his growing collection, depicted jaggedly, but Hannibal makes it look good, natural, desirable even.

“Wow”, Will’s breathing sped up to the point of near-panting. “It’s”, the words can’t seem to find their way to him. 

Hannibal looked down, almost ashamed. He went to close the book in apology, Will grabbed his wrist, eyes locking. “It’s beautiful”, he said finally.

“If you keep using that word it’s going to start to lose meaning”, Hannibal said, though he was smiling faintly.

“It’s perfect”, Will assured.

Some minutes later it occurred to Will that they were still sitting there. He still had his hand on Hannibal’s wrist and their eyes were still locked. But it also occurred to him that he has no desire to move. In fact, Will decided that now would be the time to lean closer. There would probably never be a better time. Not now that things are so raw and open. So that’s what he did.

Will slowly leaned in closer to Hannibal, eyes occasionally slipping to his lips. Hannibal seemed to have gotten the idea, and he leaned to. Soon their lips were touching. 

It wasn’t fierce. It wasn’t rough or hurried, but it was hungry all the same. Passionate in the softest way. Almost afraid to scare each other off again. Their lips pressed hard but moved slow, hesitant but eager. Will had to physically stop himself from moaning into Hannibal’s mouth. He was warm, welcoming, and perfect.

They finally pulled apart several minutes later. Hannibal’s hand was still cupped to Will’s cheek and Will’s hands were still in Hannibal’s hair.

They put their foreheads together and just breathed each other in.

“One of us should really be steering the boat”, Will said, breathless.

Hannibal huffed a laugh. “I suppose”.

He moved to get up, but Will pulled him back down. “I wasn’t being serious”.

“I know”, Hannibal looked at him and petted the side of his face. “But you really need sleep. And we really should be steering”.

“Stay with me”, Will said, quiet now. 

Hannibal looked at him quietly. In these silent moments, Will thought he never felt more vulnerable. Might as well not stop now. “I can’t sleep without you”. He was looking down now, afraid of what he would see in Hannibal’s face.

Hannibal said nothing, but laid back into the bed and rested his head onto the pillows, beckoning Will back with him.

Will smiled. Warmth flooded through him and he was sure if he looked at himself in the mirror now, his pupil would be huge.

“You know”, Hannibal said softly, face nuzzling into Will’s neck, “I think we may have a codependence problem”.

“Is that your formal diagnosis Doctor”, Will said, back pressed against Hannibal, grounding him.

Hannibal hummed in response.

“We’ve always had that problem, I think. From the moment I stepped into your office. I’ve never taken to someone quite that quickly”. 

At that Hannibal laughed a sarcastic scoff. “You call, ‘I don’t find you that interesting’ being taken with me?” 

Will could only roll his eyes. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I was wrong. You are perhaps the most interesting person on the planet”, he said. It was meant to be sarcastic, but it came out genuine. “Whether that’s a good thing, that’s in the eye of the beholder”.

“And what do your eyes tell you?”, Hannibal was speaking softly now, his hands making gentle circles across Will’s abdomen.

“They tell me that it’s a good thing”, paused, considering his next words, “You set me free” he whispered, eyes closing. 

Hannibal’s presence lulled him into a blissful sleep. Probably the best he’s ever had. 


	9. Ice(land) Ice(land), Baby

They were coming up on Iceland soon. The water has been good to them, working with them to pull them farther and farther away from America with each passing day. It would only be a few hours now until they can start their new life. Will wonders what Iceland will be like. He knows how Hannibal described it. It’ll be cold. The first thing they’ll likely have to do is go shopping for winter wear. But he can’t wait to experience it first hand. Their final destination. At least for a little while until Hannibal wants to show him somewhere else.

“Please promise we can stay in Iceland for at least a year. We can go all Michael Myers on people as much as your heart desires but please, I would like some stability while we can”. 

“Can you blame me for wanting to show you the world? And show the world you?”

Will looks down and blushes. 

“That’s sweet, but you haven’t promised”.

Hannibal sighs. “I promise. If it will make you happy, we can stay there as long as you like”.

Will smiled, taking a sip of coffee. “Good. Thank you”. 

“You don’t even know if you like Iceland yet”.

“I like any place that has a real bathroom and a bed actually big enough for two”.

“You don’t seem to be minding the bed here very much”, Hannibal quirks his eyebrow.

“I know. I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve had so many restful sleeps in a row”.

“No nightmares?”.

Will shakes his head. He reaches across the table and places a hand on Hannibal’s. “Though you might have something to do with that?”.

Hannibal squeezes his hand. “How so?”, he asks, coy. 

Will rolls his eyes. “I like having someone to sleep next to”, he says, and it’s honest. 

The Icelandic docks are a sight to behold. Somehow the water looks clearer. The boat looks out of place in crystalline the blue sparkling around them, even in the dwindling light of the late evening.

Will pulls the boat up to the very edge of the land, tying the boat to a rock and anchoring it.

“Where exactly are we?”, Will says, eyes wide and wandering around the new landscape. The grass even seemed greener and the air fresher.

“We’re in Seltjarnarnes. My property is in Reykjavík. It’ll be about an hour and a half walk, unfortunately. But it’ll give us time to look around I suppose”.

“That actually sounds perfect”, Will says. He’s breathless with excitement. 

They clamber out of the boat, grabbing as many supplies as they can without looking suspicious or weighing themselves down too much, and start walking. 

It’s dark as they make their way to Hannibal’s property. Not many cars are about at this time of night, and the stars light up the sky beautifully. If Will doesn’t think too hard, he can almost imagine he’s walking the streets of Baltimore again. But he shakes those thoughts out of his head. He doesn’t want to imagine being in Baltimore. He was miserable there. He and Hannibal had been apart, or just never on the same page. He wants to take in where they are now, be in the moment, together. 

Without thinking, Will drops his free hand down to Hannibal’s. Hannibal grabs it back seemingly without thought as well. The night air is cold against his minimal layers. A jacket and jeans aren’t gonna cut it for too long. But his thoughts warm him enough to keep him comfortable. 

“What’s it like here?”, Will asked, dreamily, eyes still wandering at the landscape in front of him. They were walking down a paved road, what looked to be a pretty main road in the city. The houses were growing closer together with each passing step, leaving the outskirts of the country into the more populated areas. 

“Well, I haven’t been here in quite some time, but I remember the people here being friendly and pleasant, even to a foreigner who could barely speak the language. Very hospitable and understanding. Most people will speak slowly for you if you ask or if they see you struggling”, Hannibal smiles, recounting his memories. 

“Friendly and pleasant, huh?”, Will said, “how did you get by here without your usual dose of rudeness to satiate your bloodlust”, he side-eyes Hannibal. It was mostly a joke, but he found himself serious.

Hannibal smiles, eyes crinkling. “There are rude people everywhere. Plenty of pigs for slaughter”. Hannibal pauses, face falling a fraction. “Though I suppose we haven’t spoken about that yet”.

Will breathes in, considering his words. No, they haven’t spoken about it. What was there to say? Hey, do you want to kill people with me? It’s no secret that Hannibal enjoyed what they did with Dolarhyde, or setting up the remains of Randall Tier together. But Hannibal had been doing his hunting alone for decades, who was he to barge in and demand to be a part of it?

After a considerable amount of silence which would be considered awkward had he been in the company of anyone else, he spoke.

“I like hunting with you”, Will said, slowly, careful.

Hannibal only watched him, expression blank.

“I would like to do it again”, he continued. “In a little while. I don’t want to rush into it. We just got here”.

Hannibal exhaled a breath that looked like he’d been holding for a while, and his face broke into a smile. The most genuine smile Will has ever seen on him. It made him look younger.

“I’m glad to hear it. I can wait, as long as you see fit”.

Will’s heart raced at the thought. Hannibal was always so beautiful when covered in blood. He remembers that day all those years ago, Hannibal elbow-deep in a patient's abdomen in the back of an ambulance. Blood shimmering on his hands, on his white shirt. Will shivered a bit at the memory. 

After a little more walking, they moved farther away from the heart of the city once again into more spaced out houses and grassy patches.

“How much farther is it anyway?”, Will asked.

“Not much. I assure you it’ll be worth the wait”.

Will smiled fondly at Hannibal and at the new world around them.

“It already is”.

They took a turn down a street and all signs of human life disappeared. Suddenly they were surrounded by nothing but trees. They veered off the gravel pathway they found themselves on and into the trees where there laid a dirt road.

“Just a few more minutes now”, Hannibal said, as Will let him guide him through the path.

It was coming on one in the morning when they finally came upon the property. It wasn’t quite in the middle of the woods like the one in Labrador, but it was close enough that they would be hard-pressed to find anyone out here to bother them or see and hear anything they shouldn’t.

The farmhouse was beautiful and large. Definitely more Hannibal’s style than the Labrador property. The front of the house had a neglected garden and all around the property was an orchard, as promised, also in need of some intensive care. It wasn’t fenced in like orchards typically are, but they don’t need one anyway. Will heard a rushing of water as he did in Labrador, Hannibal had said the property had a lake. He made a mental note to go check it out later.

“The lake here will be more bountiful in its fish population”, Hannibal said, noticing Will listen to the water.

Will smiled. “I’ll have to get my fishing gear from the boat soon”.

“We can do that tomorrow. Let’s go inside. Get acquainted with the property and put away our things”. 

The inside of the house was extremely ornate for being a farmhouse. Everything in the house needed a good cleaning, but other than that it was pretty well furnished. The hardwood floors still gleamed despite the dust coating them.

Hannibal’s modernized kitchen is exactly what one would expect of him. Every appliance was strategically placed for ideal movement. The island in the middle, similar to his Baltimore home. The dining area was spectacular as well. The large oak wood table had an intricate design carved into its sides, with chairs to match.

“Wow”, Will said, after exploring the downstairs areas. “This place is gorgeous”.

“I’m glad you like it”, Hannibal says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll show you to our bedroom”.

_ Our  _ bedroom. The words rang through Will, a warm feeling spreading through his chest.

The bedroom was probably Will’s favourite part so far. Though that might be because they’ve been walking for so long in the cold while carrying bags on their backs. But the rush of relief he felt when he made it to the room was a welcome feeling nonetheless. 

“The bed was soft and large. Dark blue sheets complimenting the dark red of the wall, seemingly black in the dark of the night. It almost looked like blood. The comforting darks in the room calmed his heart. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he watched Hannibal walk around the room, placing their bags out of the way and rooting through drawers for pyjamas for them to wear. Before Hannibal, Will never wore pyjamas. He didn’t see the point. He always ended up throwing them off in the night anyway, sweat soaking through and making them uncomfortably stick to his body. It was best to stick to boxers and a thin t-shirt. But Hannibal laid out a pair of soft cotton pants, blue like the sheets, and a matching long-sleeved shirt, and he couldn’t resist. The material was a welcome shield from the cold of the house, the heat having yet to kick in making the house only slightly warmer than the outside.

He slid under the sheets once dressed, draping them over him and almost sighing at the warmth wrapping around his icy body. Hannibal slid in next to him, his body heat a welcoming embrace. Will moved closer to him in the dark, head moving to rest on Hannibal’s shoulder, hand on his chest.

He audibly sighed once they were settled. A relaxing calm washed over him, a homey feeling that, if he had to guess, was an entirely new sensation for him. This is where he belonged, next to Hannibal, warm in his arms, comfortable, and safe. Soon they would start to build a real-life here, and start to make their bloody mark on the population of this unknowing little country. Will buried his face deeper into Hannibal’s neck, nuzzling.

“Goodnight”, Will said, the words muffled by his mouth pressed against Hannibal’s skin.

“Goodnight”, Hannibal echoed. Hannibal’s hands were slowly stroking his arm, soothing him into a deep, comfortable sleep.


	10. Will Steals A Dog (But What Did You Expect From Him?)

They stayed put in the farmhouse for a few days, living off the groceries already present in the house and the supplies they brought with them from the boat. When Will ventured out to buy more supplies his heart pounded with every step in all the stores he visited, just waiting for a wanted poster to jump out at him. But it never happened. 

Soon a week passed, and Will finally began to relax. They were finally settling in, and nothing has threatened to tear them away. 

“ _ Tattle Crime _ seems to think we’re headed to the Bahamas”, Hannibal says, closing the article on his Ipad.

“What makes her think that?”, Will asked, flipping through a fishing magazine he bought at the store. He had a lot more time for leisure now than he ever had before, he doesn’t know what to do with himself most days. He’s finding that he quite likes that feeling. 

“Someone pulled the video footage of you in the gas station in Labrador. They employed the Canadian authorities to help investigate our whereabouts, but when they found the house we had vacated. They assumed we switched our course southward after we left”.

“They found the house?”, Will asked. A pang of anxiety found its way to him and burrowed deep in his chest. “What’s to stop them from finding this one?”

Hannibal sighed and walked over to sit next to Will on the living room couch, wrapping an arm around him. “What’s stopping them is the fact that they think we’re in the Bahamas. When in fact, we couldn’t possibly be farther”.

Will exhaled. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I guess I’m just so used to having things to worry about that now that I don’t, it’s like my brain doesn’t know what to do, how to slow down”. 

“You must be going stir crazy. Cooped up in here for nearly two weeks now”, Hannibal squeezed his shoulder. “Why don’t we take a walk down to the river? I could pack us a lunch and you could try to catch us something for dinner tonight”.

Will warmed at the thought. He hadn’t had a chance to go down to the river yet. Ok, he had a chance. He had several chances, it’s not like he had anything better to do. He was just putting off forming an attachment to this place, seeing as what happened to the last one. But it’s time that changed.

“That sounds really nice. I’ll get my gear ready”.

They were out the door within the hour. Will packing a fishing rod and tackle box and Hannibal a picnic basket. The rush of water was calming and getting louder with each passing step.

Will concluded that this stream was in fact, indefinitely times better than the one in Labrador. This stream seemed healthy and alive. Swimming with fish and rushing with vigor. The water was clear with the slightest tinge of blue, if he looked hard enough, he could see the bottom. The rocks surrounding it were smooth and slick from the water. The grass and moss a lush green, more vibrant a colour than he’s ever seen. He thinks this place will come to be more of a comfort than his mind stream, if only because in this stream, Hannibal is sitting behind him on a blanket, reading a book, sunlight bouncing off the grey in his hair, making him sparkle. Will’s breath fogged in front of him as he hummed a contented sigh and cast off into the water. Abigail was here with him too. He could feel her presence just beside him, watching his technique, learning. Despite the cold weather, the warmth he felt at this moment was enough to keep him from shivering. 

It wasn’t long until he got a bite on his line. He pulled up his rod and on the end there dangled an Atlantic Salmon. Will smiled at the sight and chuckled a pleased laugh. He could feel Hannibal’s eyes on him, watching from behind as Will measured the fish.

“63cm”, he said, turning to face Hannibal, wide smile still plastered on his face. “Perfectly acceptable for dinner tonight if I do say so myself”.

“Very good, Will”, Hannibal said, a genuine smile creeping on his face as well. “Now put that away and come eat something”. Hannibal pat down on the blanket. Will put the fish in the cooler and sunk down next to Hannibal. 

“What’dcha make?”, Will said peering into the basket.

Hannibal began taking out the contents and setting it up around them. Of course, even a picnic has to be beautifully displayed when you’re with Hannibal Lecter.

“A chocolate chip chili with Italian sausage, spinach, and sundried tomato bread, and rhubarb custard tarts”. He named them as he set them out. 

“I’m sorry, did you say chocolate chip chili?”, Will asked. 

“Yes. It’s very good I promise you. All the regular chili ingredients with half a cup of dark chocolate mixed in gives it a richer, sweeter, taste while also keeping it savoury”.

Hannibal poured some chili for him out into a bowl and he looked warily at it. Though why be wary when he’s already eaten human and a whole endangered bird? 

The chili warmed him from top to bottom. The flavours mixing wonderfully to create a spicy-sweet tinge on his tongue. 

“Oh my god, that’s delicious”.

“Thank you”, Hannibal said, taking a bite of his own.

They sat there letting the food warm them for several minutes, and even longer after that sprawled out together on the blanket. Will’s hand was on Hannibal’s chest, his head on Hannibal's shoulder, and his leg swung over on top of him. He hummed, contented.

“What do we do after this?”, Will asked, staring up at the darkening sky.

“We go home, and I cook us dinner. You can do what you like”.

“No. I mean, what do we do in the long run. We can’t just do nothing forever. I’ll go crazy”.

“As I said, you can do what you like”, Hannibal said. “I suppose we should start taking Icelandic lessons, that would take up some time. And maybe after we’re more proficient in our speaking we could go out more”.

“Icelandic huh”, Will contemplated. It was a good idea, he had forgotten about the language barrier. “On a scale of one to ten how hard is that gonna be to learn?”

Hannibal opened his mouth to speak. “How hard for me. Not you, Mister English, French, Italian, Lithuanian, Dutch, and Lord knows what other languages”.

“You flatter me. And if you keep at it, it shouldn’t take you more than 10 months to reach working proficiency”.

“10 months?”, Will’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. He heard Hannibal stifle a laugh. 

“Yes, I’m afraid it’s one of the most difficult languages for English speakers to learn. But I have full faith in you”.

“I suppose that means we’ll be here for a while”, Will smiled hopefully. 

“Yes, I suppose it does”, Hannibal smiled back. “We should head home. It’s getting cold and I’d like to start cooking that fish”. 

After a week of Hannibal coaching him and tapping through activities on various apps, Will decided he just wasn’t fated to learn a new language. 

“How the hell did you pick it up so fast”, Will said, frustratingly, though there was no real bite to the words. 

“Well many Nordic languages are similar to one another. Particularly Norwegian. I lived there for a short while and managed to pick the language up, so it was just a matter of practice and recalling some rules I learned there”.

“Oh my god”, Will groaned, closing Duolingo with an aggressive tap. “This is impossible”.

“You just have to keep at it. You can make a basic sentence, can’t you?”.

“No”, Will said, deadpan.

“Come on, you didn’t pick anything up?”, Hannibal nudged, prompting. “How about just one word?”.

“Why do I need to learn it if you already know it? I can just get you to talk for me forever”.

Hannibal smiled at the floor, his expression warm. “While I do enjoy the prospect of you being dependent on me, even more dependent, that is, if we’re going to live here for a year as you wanted, you should at least learn some basic phrases to get by, just in case you need them. So come on, tell me one word in Icelandic”. 

“You’re not gonna let me get out of this are you?”.

Hannibal shook his head. 

Will exhaled, “fine”, he relented, “hudur”. He actually had to physically repress a shudder at his own atrocious attempt at pronunciation, but Hannibal’s beaming smile helped ease some embarrassment.

“And that means?”, he prompted.

“You know what it means”.

“Yes, but I want you to show me that you know what it means. So, I ask again, and that means?”

“Dog”, Will rolled his eyes.

“Very good”. 

Despite his complaining, it actually wasn’t long until Will managed to memorize enough phrases to comfortably go out on his own to the store or on a walk around the town, and manage not to piss any locals off with his lack of manners. Of course, google translate was still his best friend when it came to reading labels and signs, but he was getting by.

“Hey, I’m going on a walk. Do you wanna come?”, Will asked, finally in weather-appropriate clothes.

“No, I can’t at the moment, but thank you for asking”, he smiled at Will, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. “Ham is in the oven and I can’t leave it in case it dries out or burns. But you have fun”.

“Oh yes, heaven forbid the ham gets a little dry”, he laughed, pocketing a baggie of jerky for his trip.

“Dry ham is not a joke Will”, he said, deadpan before cracking a playful smile. “And don’t spoil your dinner with that processed garbage”.

“Yes, mom”, he slipped out the door before Hannibal could retaliate.

This city is very beautiful. The houses are relatively close together, though that may just be because he’s used to being out in the middle of nowhere. Cars drive by only on occasion, being it Tuesday afternoon, most people are probably at work. There’s a light snow coming down, dusting the streets and his curls. It’s coming up on December now. He hummed and smiled at the thought of Christmas here with Hannibal. Would he allow Will to drag a tree into the house? Probably. He hasn’t denied Will anything, Will doesn’t think he even can at this point. 

He was about ready to turn around and head back when he heard a faint whimper just up ahead. While approaching the noise he was praying to all the gods in every book that it wasn’t in his head again. This happened before, and it was nothing. He’s been healing mentally being out in the farmhouse with Hannibal and minimal interaction besides that. It’s been quiet, peaceful, just what he needed to finally feel like himself in his own head, for probably the first time ever. He exhaled at the sight of the dog. 

The poor girl was lost in the snow and limping. She was a small sheepdog with red fur soaked through from the snow. She had a collar but no one was around, probably slipped away off a post due to the ice and ran, hurting her paw in the process. 

“Hey little girl”, Will said, quietly.

She backed up at the sight of him, whimpering louder, tail between her legs.

“Oh, I know you’re scared sweetheart, but it’s okay”. He got out the remaining pieces of jerky from his pocket and held them out for her. This got her to step close enough for Will to read the tag on her collar. Winnie.

“Hey Winnie”, he said, crouching down letting her sniff the jerky. “Can you come here to me? I won’t hurt you, I promise. I’ll take you home and get you warm and safe, okay”.

She walked closer to his hand, just enough to grab a piece of jerky with her very front teeth. 

“That’s it. Good girl”. Will cautioned his hand closer still, “shhh, it’s okay Winnie. I know you’re scared, but it’s okay”.

She took the last piece of jerky from him, leaving his hand free. She moved a fraction closer to sniff his skin. Will slowly touched her nose, and when she didn’t back away, he moved to stroke between her eyes.

“That’s a good girl”, he soothed, “see, you’re safe with me. Let me get a little closer. I can pick you up and take you home”. 

Will cautioned a step closer. She didn’t back away, so he moved his hand from between her eyes, onto her head, and down her back. In a slow, easy motion, he swept his hand below her belly and lifted her up, cradling her to his chest.

“Aww, you poor thing. It’s okay. It’s alright. You’re okay”, he said, stroking her head. “Let’s head home and get you all better, okay”.

Winnie cuddled into him the whole walk home, still shivering and whimpering even once out of the snow and into the warmth of their heated farmhouse.

“Perfect timing, dinner’s ready”, Hannibal said, turning to meet Will at the door.

Hannibal’s eyes dropped down to the dog but he said nothing. An amused expression crept upon his face. 

“Her name is Winnie”, Will offered, “I found her on my walk and she’s hurt. I was hoping you could take a look at her”.

“I’m a doctor, not a vet, Will”, Hannibal said, apologetically, “but I’ll see what I can do”. 

They brought Winnie inside and laid her on the couch while Hannibal examined her. 

“It’s not broken, just sprained”, Hannibal said. He looked up at Will, expecting,

“What?”.

“Go on, ask”

Will exhaled. “Can we keep her?”, he said, eyelashes almost batting.

Hannibal smiled. “Of course we can. Obviously whatever owners she had didn’t care for her enough to keep her safe. And I highly doubt that you would give her up even if I said no”.

“You would be correct”.

“Alright, let’s get her fed. We can go to the store tomorrow and get some toys for her”, Hannibal gently pet the top of Winnie’s head before heading back to the kitchen to cut her up some ham and vegetables.

“Nothing with garlic or too much seasoning on it”, Will called to him, curling up on the couch with Winnie.

“Yes dear, I’m not incompetent”.

Will huffed a gentle laugh that turned into a contented sigh. Everything was finally coming together for him. He and Hannibal are safe, away from the FBI, away from everything, together, and now they have a dog. Will let his gentle pets soothe Winnie into finally easing her shivering.

After she was fed and bathed, they took her up to bed.

“Are we really letting her sleep in our bed?”, Hannibal asked while lifting her up onto the mattress. 

“We’ll get her a bed of her own tomorrow, but she had a rough day. Who knows how long she’s been out there. She deserves this comfort”, Will said, settling into his side of the bed, Winnie wedged in between them.

“I suppose so”. Despite his light-hearted complaining, Hannibal smiled down at Winnie with nothing but warmth. He ran his hands down her now-soft fur. With the heavy press and warmth of Winnie against his side and the soft sound of Hannibal’s steady breathing next to him, Will has no trouble at all relaxing into a quiet peace. He can’t remember the last time everything’s felt so in place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chocolate chip chili recipe: https://simplebites.net/7-favorite-do-ahead-dinners-for-winter-recipe-chocolate-chip-chili/


	11. Phantoms of the Opera (idk I've never seen it)

With Winnie around, Will settled into a routine pretty quickly. Every morning he would let her out while he and Hannibal sat on the porch with their coffee, Hannibal quizzing him on Icelandic words and phrases. In the afternoons they would read or watch some TV show Will couldn’t understand (with English subtitles off ‘to help with listening comprehension’). In the evenings they would take Winnie out for a walk, sometimes taking her into town, she loved getting pets from strangers. Will also spent a lot of his time fishing or working on restoring the orchard while Hannibal cooked or prepared to cook or thought about cooking. 

But there was something missing that Will was beginning to miss. Something he suspects Hannibal misses too. He had an itch to hunt. They’ve talked about it that one time on the boat and never again. He wonders if Hannibal thinks he has no interest in it, or wants him to suppress his urges. He wants exactly the opposite. Will often dreams of the night that changed the course of his life forever. He dreams of Francis Dolarhyde bleeding out in front of him. He dreams of the wings that formed around his lifeless body in a pile of seeping red-black. He dreams of how euphoric it felt to be in control of someone’s life, of someone’s death. He felt like God. And sharing that feeling with Hannibal was everything. He wants to feel it again. 

“Do I get a cookie if I get it right?”, Will asked. 

“What’s the answer?”, Hannibal said, smirking but remaining resolute.

He’s been quizzing Will all morning on Icelandic numbers. All morning. 

“Seventy-six?”. He honestly had no idea and at this point, he was too done to care. 

Hannibal looked up at him, eyebrow quirked. “Did you just guess that, or do you know?”

Will’s eyes lit up, cracking a smile. “Was I right?”, he asked, surprised. 

Hannibal exhaled and slowly nodded his head.

“Nice. Maybe my osmosis theory of studying has some merit to it after all”.

Hannibal huffed. “You were a professor at a prestigious organization who worked for the FBI, and yet you despise studying”. 

“Yeah?”, Will quirked a crooked smile.

“You fascinate me”, Hannibal smiled warmly. 

Winnie came back around the house, the stick Will was throwing for her long-forgotten somewhere in the trees. Will bent down and scratched behind her ears, letting her lick him excitedly.

“Well I see we’re clearly done with studying for today. Let's go inside, it’s getting cold out here”.

They raised from their place on the porch, stepping into the warm heat of the house. Will opened his mouth, hesitating.

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about”, he said, finally. 

Hannibal turned his head, waiting.

Will cleared his throat. “Let’s sit down”.

They moved over to the couch and Winnie jumped up into his lap, head resting on his thigh. He pet her nervously. How does he even begin to go about talking about this?

“So”, Will began again.

“So”, Hannibal prompted. “Is everything okay? You seem upset”.

“I’m not upset. The opposite actually, everything’s just so”

“Perfect?”, Hannibal offers.

“Yeah. Perfect”.

Hannibal smiled tightly. “But?”

“Right. But”. He took a steadying breath. This is Hanniball he’s talking to, why is he nervous about offering the one thing he’s always wanted Will to indulge in with him?

Will took his hands and they locked eyes. “I want you to stop pretending to be a dutiful househusband and come out with me”.

Hannibal looked hopeful. “And what would we do, while we’re ‘out’?”, he asked, trying not to read into things too much.

“I want to go hunting with you”. Will emphasized the word, the double meaning seeping through to Hannibal’s understanding. “I know you must miss your staple protein”.

Hannibal’s eyes glinted. “Do you miss it?”, he almost whispered.

“Probably not as much as you, I could never really tell the difference between meats anyway. Meat is meat”.

Hannibal visibly winced at his words.

“But I miss the feeling of getting it. I miss the hunt”.

Hannibal’s breath caught in his chest. His eyes warmed.

“It won’t be like before, it won’t be like Dolarhyde. That was spontaneous, the endorphins it elicited in your brain will feel different than a calculated hunt”.

“I know”, he assured. He wants it to feel different, he wants to feel what Hannibal feels.

“You’ve never done it like that before. Randall, Dolarhyde, they were both spur of the moment”.

“Yes. But I’m ready for more now. I’m ready”.

Hannibal studied his face for a minute, taking him all in. “Yes”, he said finally, “yes you are”. 

Hannibal was knotting Will’s tie before they left for the evening.

“Is it necessary I wear a suit?”, Will said, fidgeting with the tight fabric.

“We’re going to the opera Will, it’s business formal. So yes it’s necessary”.

Will sighed and tucked in his shirt.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining, you look magnificent in suits”.

Will smiled down, redness creeping upon his cheeks. “Magnificent huh?”

“Precisely. Now, we must go, lateness is rude”.

“What about Wine?”, Will looked over to Winnie, curled up in the living room on her bed, toy in her mouth.

“She will be fine on her own for a few hours, I’m sure”, he turned to Winnie before walking out, “goodbye, Winnifred. We’ll be back later tonight”.

Will laughed at his formality. “You know I don’t think she even understands English words”.

“She’s learning”.

Will walked out before Hannibal had to drag him out. On their way to the opera, and perhaps a pit stop on the way home to stalk some new prey. 

“I don’t understand a word that’s being said”, Will whispered to Hannibal over the singing ringing throughout the room.

“You wouldn’t understand even in the Maryland opera house. This is Italian anyway. Now shush, we can’t talk during a performance”.

Will rolled his eyes. He may be feigning boredom to piss Hannibal off, but the truth is, the woman’s voice is beautiful, even if he has no idea what she’s saying. And even if he didn;t enjoy the music, watching Hannibal enjoy it was enough. He is fully immersed in the music, tears just rimming his eyes at the final high note of the song. He’s the first one out of his chair when the music stops, clapping in full appreciation. It’s the next part of the night that he’s been dreading.

After the performance, all the audience members are invited to  _ mingle  _ on the ground floor. At least there’s an open bar. Will keeps a drink in his hand from the moment they step into the crowd. 

“I’ll do the talking”, Hannibal whispered to him.

“Well yeah, I would hope so. Unless you need to say seventy-six, then I’m your guy”. 

Hannibal huffed a laugh. “Come, all you need to do is just stand there and look pretty”. 

Will did, in fact, just stand there and look pretty. When someone tried to speak with him, he merely smiled at them until they turned their attention to Hannibal. He was fully aware it made him look like a trophy bimbo Hannibal won at a Louisiana strip club, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Probably because he was drunk off of 5 something’s he can’t pronounce. 

He was watching as Hannibal discussed lord knows what with a man about his age. His suit wasn’t as nice as Hannibal’s but he still looked old money rich. 

“His name is Jón”, Hannibal said to him. He just nodded.

“And I need to know this why?”, Will slurred.

Hannibal rolled his eyes. “Will”, he warned, “don’t be rude”.

“It’s not like he can understand me”, Will pointed out. He cracked a genuine smile at Hannibal’s annoyed one until he turned back to the man - Jón - and carried on with their conversation.

It’s not like Will was totally clueless at the language. After all, it has been nearly two months now, a few words and phrases have managed to stick. A few. 

He caught every tenth or twelfth word. Mostly ‘and’, ‘you’, and ‘he’. But that’s something, and Will’s counting it as progress. 

His ears perked up at a particular word as the conversation came to a close. 

“Did you say I’m your husband?”, Will asked him when Jón was out of earshot.

“Yes”, Hannibal said, simply. “Is that an issue”.

He was a little too drunk for this. “Um”, he started, “no. Not a problem, just asking”.

“Good”. Hannibal smiled, smug.

“So what were you two talking about?”.

Hannibal took the change of subject in stride. 

“Not much. The music, how long we’ve been here, how long we’ve been married, average things”. Oh yes, average things.

“So how long have we been married?”, Will asked, only half-joking, “seems like the kind of knowledge I should have, seeing as I make up half of the marriage”. 

Hannibal smiled. “Five and a half years”. 

“We’ve only known each other five and a half years”, Will said as if it needed pointing out.

“Yes”. He gave no further explanation and no further explanation was needed. From the moment he met Hannibal they had sold themselves to each other. They were always meant to be like this, together.

“He seems to think you a thoughtless imbecile. Nothing but a pretty toy I take to functions”, Hannibal says. He takes a sip of his drink. A red wine. “I find it very rude to say something like that, especially in front of one’s face, don’t you?”. He side-eyed Will.

“Well I mean it’s kinda true tonight, isn’t it?”, Will said.

The fiery glint the words ilicted in Hannibal’s eyes was just what he was going for.

“And It’s not like I knew he said it”. 

“Will”, Hannibal said, “that’s not what I meant”. His eyes glinted, words full of meaning. 

“I know”, Will broke into a smile. 

“It really doesn’t take much to piss you off, does it?”, Will asked outside the opera house, as they waited for the crowds to die down. 

“He insulted you, in my books, that’s enough”.

A warmth spread through Will. “Oh Popeye, my hero”, he joked.

For a split second he could’ve sworn he saw Hannibal’s cheeks flush pink, even in the dark of the night.

In reality, Will doesn’t care what the hell this guy did or didn’t do to incur the wrath of Hannibal, he was just happy they were finally going to hunt together. 

Jón is finally on his way out of the opera house doors at a quarter to one. He hops in a cab, happily drunk and stumbling. 

“What do we do?”, Will asks him.

“We follow it”.

Hannibal trailed the cab a few blocks behind, not enough to be suspicious, but enough to keep up. Jón’s home was only a couple of minutes away from the opera house. It was a large modern mansion-type home. Not classy like Hannibal’s home in Boston, this was flashy and quite ugly if he’s being honest. Although that may just be because he’s gotten used to being spoiled by Hannibal’s more than lavish tastes. Jón’s home was surrounded by other houses pretty much identical to it in the gated neighbourhood where it sat. 

“Okay”, Will said as they pulled up just outside the back of the house. “What do we do now?”. 

“I’m glad you have faith in my infinite wisdom, but I’m sure you can figure it out without me holding your hand”. Hannibal got out of the car like a slick street cat, movements flowing like silk.

“Perhaps, but it helps”, he held out his hand for Hannibal to take. He does. It would’ve been better if they weren’t wearing gloves thicker than molasses, but he’s glad they’re being extra careful.

Hannibal picked the lock with as much ease as one would expect. The next problem is the alarm. But of course, he had that handled too. Will just stood back and watched as Hannibal worked. He was mesmerized. It was already living up to every fantasy he’s ever had. 

“How did you do that?”, Will whispered after he disabled the alarm.

“Men like him think they’re untouchable. He never even bothered to set up a personalized code. Why would he when 0000 worked just fine? The people who need alarms the most are the ones who never use them”.

“Good for us”. 

The inside of the house was just as bland as the outside. There was nothing remarkable or personalizing about anything in here that would indicate that this man has any semblance of personality. He had likely very expensive pieces of abstract art hung up on the walls of his living room, along with a bookcase filled with beautiful leather-bound copies of all the classics, dusty, barely touched. Probably never even read. But nothing beyond that room, the rest of the house was all but bare. He has these items in the only room in his house he’s likely to ever have guests, to make him seem personable and interesting. This poor boring man is anything but. No pictures of family around either. Good. No one to come looking for him, no one to miss him when he’s gone. 

He trailed behind Hannibal, as he moved around the house. He was slick and fast like oil, steps non-existent even on the hardwood floor.

They found their prey upstairs passed out on his large bed. His high thread count sheets hung lazily off his body, still in his suit, though very disheveled. 

Will and Hannibal looked at each other for a moment, standing stalkish above the sleeping man - pig. 

Hannibal grabbed the back of his head to hold him still and kneel on his chest while Will forced a pillow onto his face. They watched as he struggled, voice muffled by the goose-down. Will looked him in the eyes, watching him go from bugged and afraid to lifeless. Still and glassy. 

Will kept the pillow on his face for longer than he needed to. Hannibal moved his hands away from the body, standing still, waiting. 

After a moment, Will exhaled. He didn’t even realize he was holding in a breath. He stood up next to Hannibal in the quiet. He held out his hand, Hannibal took it.

“Your pulse isn’t racing”, Hannibal said to him.

It was a shock to hear him speak at a regular volume.

“I liked that”, he said simply. And then he laughed. In fact, he couldn't stop laughing. 

“What is it?”, Hannibal said, laughter spreading to him as well.

“I don’t know, it’s just”, he paused, laughter subsiding. “I really liked that”.

“I’m glad. But now we need to figure out what to do with the body”. 

“Yes you’re right”, Will turned to face him, “just one thing first”. 

Will grabbed his neck and brought their lips together in a quick motion. Their lips locked together slowly, but frantically growing faster with need. Before long, Will could feel himself getting tight in his pants, it’s then that he pulled away. 

“Body”, he said, breathless.

“Yours or his?”, Hannibal asked, smiling. 

It took some thinking, but after some careful consideration, they decided the best possible way to display good old boring Jón. 

“He wasn’t interesting in life, but he can be interesting in death”, Hannibal said, surveying the scene.

“It’s so beautiful”, Will whispered. Their hands were clasped again, taking in their work together.

“I’m glad you think so”.

“You know, this has Chesapeake Ripper written all over it right? One word of this and Jack will come running”.

Hannibal considered this. “I don’t think he will”.

“How do you figure that?”

“We’re in Iceland, Jack has no authority here. And besides, the Chesapeake Ripper case has been closed. They had me, and they lost me. I think he’s done with us. Losing you was his final straw”.

“You can’t lose something you never truly had”, Will whispered.

Hannibal tore his eyes from the scene to look at him.

“I’ve always been yours. I just didn’t always know it. And I wasn’t always so cooperative with the idea”.

“This is you being cooperative?”, Hannibal joked. “I think it’s a good thing we didn’t meet earlier in life if that’s the case”.

“Probably”, Will smiled at the ground. He was always curious to know more about young Hannibal. Maybe someday Hannibal will be receptive enough to the idea and share with him. 

“Home now?”, Will asked.

“Home now”.


	12. In Which the Bed Sheets Get Wonderfully Ruined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the real smut begins. I tried my best but it's still kinda meh. I've never written smut before just an fyi. Kind of embarrassed tbh but i'm posting it anyway

Winnie was happy to see them when they got home. She jumped all over them and Will sunk down to give her some pets.

“I’m going to put this in the fridge”, Hannibal said, indicating the piece of Jón they took. It’s not much, but it’s enough to get Hannibal through whatever withdrawal he’s probably feeling. At least enough to last them until next time. 

Will was still feeling the buzz of the kill. He’s sure he could run a 10-kilometer race right now if he tried.

He looked over at Hannibal in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, tied slightly skewed. He wondered how many other people have been lucky enough to see Hannibal like this, to really see him. He thinks maybe it’s just him. His cheeks grew warm at the thought.

“It’s getting late, we should head up to bed”, Hannibal said. 

For a reason Will couldn’t pinpoint, his heart finally caught up with him and started to beat faster, nearly fluttering.

He swallowed hard in an attempt to control it and followed Hannibal upstairs. 

The dark of the night refused to blanket him in the warm calm he’s been so used to experiencing. Instead, he was lying back, fingers tapping against his thighs, his brain refusing to turn off. 

He heard Hannibal sigh and turned over to face him. “What is it?”, Hannibal asked.

“Hm?”, was all Will could manage. 

“Ever since we got home you’ve been acting not like yourself. Is everything alright?”. Hannibal sat up now and Will mirrored him. 

“Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”, it was a legitimate question that he was desperate to find the answer to. Why was he acting like this?

“Will”, Hannibal began, softly, “if you regret tonight”

“No”, Will said quickly. “Absolutely not. That’s not it. Tonight was- it was everything”.

“Then why are you acting as if something’s wrong”, Hannibal said.

“I’m fine”, he said, snippier than he meant to.

Hannibal looked at him, face blank for a long moment.

“Alright”, he said, defeated, “goodnight then”. He laid back down and turned his back to Will.

“I love you”, Will said. It came out quickly, like ripping off a band-aid.

Hannibal slowly rose back up to sit with him again but stayed silent.

The sound of their breathing was drilling a hole in Will’s head. The statement just out there, floating in the room with nothing to attach to. He was chewing on his lip, eyes focused on a spot on the sheets in front of him. 

“Will”, Hannibal said, softly, finally breaking the silence. “Did you honestly think I didn’t love you back?”.

“I don’t know”, Will whispered. “We’ve done a lot of shit to each other”.

Hannibal laughed softly. “Indeed”. He moved closer to Will on the mattress, placing a hand on his cheek and stroking it to move a curl behind his ear. “Well, in case I haven’t been clear, I love you. So much. You’re so dear to me”.

Will exhaled deeply and slowly turned to finally look him in the eye. He flashed a small smile, eyes brimmed with tears.

He dropped his head down to Hannibal’s shoulder and nuzzled in.

“Good”, he said into Hannibal’s skin.

Hannibal pet his hair and slowly lowered them both back onto the pillows. 

“Are you better now?”, he asked, still whispering.

Will, now nearly asleep, pressed tightly into Hannibal’s body, slowly nodded. He breathed in the scent of Hannibal. This is home. This is perfect. 

The news sites in the morning were buzzing. Hannibal turned on the subtitles this time so he could understand and wow, every channel was covering the murder.

“Isn’t there anything better for these people to do than to film this?”, Will said, flicking through channel number seven.

“The crime rate of Iceland is 0-1.5% a year. This is big news for them”, Hannibal said over his coffee cup.

“0%?”, Will’s eyes bugged. “How is that even possible?”.

“High education and employment rates, secure social safety nets, tight control on weapons. Not as much of a reason to kill people here as there is in America”.

“Unless you enjoy it”, Will said with a smirk.

“Indeed”.

“So, what are we gonna do today? I’d rather not go anywhere, at least until the buzz dies down”.

“I suppose a quiet day in is healthy for every once in a while”.

A whole day with nothing to do but stay inside. Will bit his lip when an idea came to mind.

“What are you smiling at?”, Hannibal asked.

Will looked over at him. “Nothing”, he said, feigning innocence.

“Will?”.

Will took in a breath. Fuck it. 

“You know”, Will began, “if I’m supposed to be your husband, we haven’t been doing a very good job at making it realistic”. Will smiled crooked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well”, he sucked a breath in through his teeth, “there are things that husbands do, that we haven’t done”. He looked up at Hannibal through his eyelashes.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes in questioning. “Things?”, he asked, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a bit more specific”.

Will just looked at him, trailing his eyes all down his body.

“Things”, Hannibal said, understanding.

“Things”.

“If this is your attempt at seduction I have some notes”. 

Will sat there petting Winnie, waiting.

“Come on”, Hannibal said, finally.

Will shot up quickly and let Hannibal guide him up the stairs. 

Their lips clashed more hungry than before. Will took Hannibal’s lower lip in between his teeth and bit down lightly. The sensation caused a slight growl from Hannibal. Will’s hands traveled down the front of Hanibal’s shirt, feeling his chest. His fingers quickly moved on to the buttons, slipping them undone in swift motions.

Hannibal’s hands moved under Will’s t-shirt and began to lift it up. They broke apart so he could get it over Will’s head and drop it to the ground. They stood kissing and feeling each other’s chests and abdomens. Hannibal’s fingers lightly trailing along Will’s scar. Will’s fingers moved over Hannibal’s belt buckle. He lingered there, feeling the hardness underneath, before undoing the clasp and zipper. 

He let the pants drop below Hannibal’s knees and undid his own zipper. Hannibal brought their hips together in a quick snap and Will moaned softly at the clash, nothing but thin fabric encasing them both. 

“Bed”, Hannibal said against his lips. 

They clambered onto the bed in a pile of limbs, Will settling on top of Hannibal, leg between his thighs. 

He starts moving away from Hannibal’s mouth, instead, focusing on his jaw, and then down to his collarbone. 

He hears Hannibal gasp when he brings his hand up to circle his fingers around his nipple, lightly grazing the pink skin until it perked up. He continued lower still, until his mouth was inches away from the hot flesh, still covered by thin fabric. 

He stuck his tongue out and grazed over the boxers.

“You don’t have to”, Hannibal said, breathless. He looked down at Will from where he laid on the pillows. Face flushed beautifully from lack of oxygen, lips wet and slightly swollen.

“I know”, Will whispered.

He started tugging down Hannibal’s boxers. Hannibal lifted his hips to help. When he got them off, Will took in a steadying breath and had to bite back a groan.

Will took him in slowly, feeling the weight of him in his mouth. Warm and filling and slick, Will took the tip in his mouth and circled around it with his tongue. He heard Hannibal take in a quick breath. He watched as his head fell back, eyes fluttering closed. Will took him in deeper, licking down the underside. 

He relished in the feel of having Hannibal in his mouth, slowly sucking him down. He could taste the salty beginnings of release when he pulled off with a pop.

Hannibal opened his eyes, breathing heavy, flushed, and beautiful. He slowly rose to his knees, nearly staggering, and pulled Will’s own boxers down.

“Your turn”, he whispered in Will’s ear. His voice was rough, and it rang through his bones sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

“No”, Will whispered back. He grabbed the sides of Hannibal’s face and looked him deep in the eyes, “I want you inside me”.

Hannibal leaned in to kiss him, tasting himself on Will’s mouth.

He slowly moved behind Will on his knees, kissing from his mouth to the back of his neck. His kisses dropped down lower, moving down his back until his mouth rested at the base of Will’s spine. 

“Lay down for me”, he whispered against Will’s skin.

Will lowered himself onto the bed, face against the pillows. He allowed Hannibal to grab under his hips and prop them up, kissing the sides of his thighs. He spread Will open, breath hitting the tight ring of muscle beneath.

“Are you ready”, Hannibal whispered.

Will nodded, trying not to be too desperate but at the same time subconsciously raising his hips higher in the air.

Hannibal nosed against his opening before gently going in with his tongue. Will gasped at the sensation. He grunted into the pillow and ground his hips against Hannibal’s tongue, moving quicker now. 

Hannibal lapped at Will, tasting him for all he is. He was sweaty and salty and beautifully perfect. Everything he’s ever wanted.

Will was moaning louder now, sounds muffled by the pillow he was biting down on.

Hannibal started moving his tongue in deeper, breaching him further. 

Will was desperately rocking against Hannibal now, shameless in his effort to feel the pleasure entirely. His neglected dick clung to his stomach, sticky pre-come leaking already. 

Hannibal would consider the noises eliciting from both of them to be obscene, had they been coming from anyone else. Will’s moans and the entirely desperate rock of the squeaking bed, along with the wet sucking Hannibal was making against Will’s skin. 

Hannibal moved in deeper still, tongue moving up and down, stretching him and filling him out. Will resisted the urge to grab his dick. He wanted this to last longer. As long as possible. Forever. 

“Ok”, Will said, the second syllable swallowed into a high-pitched moan. “Enough. Please”, he gasped. 

Hannibal pulled back. 

“I want you in me now”, he said, turning his head back to look Hannibal in the eyes. “Please”.

Hannibal kissed up his back, meeting his lips, Will now tasting himself. 

“Just give me a minute”, Hannibal said. He got up from the bed and went into the ensuite bathroom.

Will laid back on the pillows, waiting. He thrusted his hips lazily into the air, seeking friction but finding none, and resisted every urge telling him to touch himself. 

Hannibal came out of the bathroom holding an obviously lightly used bottle of lube. 

“Where did you get that?”, Will shot up. He’s been using spit, soap, and water all this time. Anything not suspicious that would lead Hannibal to any conclusions Will didn’t want him to come to.

“You think you’re the only one of us with urges?”, Hannibal said, sliding on top of him.

“You masturbate?”. He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. The image was hard to picture, but once he did, he couldn’t get it out of his head. He’ll have to ask Hannibal to let him watch some time. Or maybe they could do it together. 

“I’m not a robot Will”. He was squeezing the lube onto his fingers, very liberal. 

“No, but you just seem so”, Will paused, “in control”.

“Yes, I was. But one can only control so much when in such close quarters with someone as beautiful as you”, Hannibal kissed the side of his cheek. “Now, hips up”.

Will did as he said and Hannibal slipped one finger in him. He gasped at being filled with more than just a tongue. 

“More”, Will said, voice high with pleasure. 

Hannibal slipped in a second finger, stretching him wider. 

“Is this okay?”, Hannibal asked.

Will’s answer got swallowed into a guttural groan as Hannibal curled his fingers inside him. 

“Yeah”, he whispered, swallowing hard. “There”.

Hannibal moved faster. Will’s mouth opened with the sensation, back arching so hard it almost hurt.

He could feel the very edge of completion slowly building inside him.

“Ok”, he said, reluctantly. “I’m ready for you”. It was breathy and shuddered. 

Will whined at the emptiness when Hannibal pulled out. 

Will heard the squelching of the lube again and Hannibal lowered himself down onto Will. He kissed Will’s lips, quick and chaste. Will smiled at the change in energy. He felt Hannibal line himself up between his legs and push in slowly.

Will gasped and squeezed his eyes shut at the pressure.

Hannibal moaned softly at the tight, hot pressure surrounding him. They laid there, adjusting to the feel of each other. Will started to slightly move his hips, urging Hannibal to start moving as well.

Hannibal slowly began rocking his hips, moving in and out of Will at an even pace. Hannibal’s head hung low against Will’s collar bone, lightly biting down on him. Will’s breathing started to speed up again, heartbeat thudding in his ears. He moaned when Hannibal found his way back to that spot inside him, hips lifting higher. Will’s hand snaked down to grab at his dick, temptation finally giving in. Hannibal batted his hand away, taking Will in his own fist instead. 

Will bit at his lip to keep from screaming. The movements sped up, both Hannibal’s hips and his hand becoming rapid and desperate. Will couldn’t stop himself now; a long, low in the throat moan, escaped him. The pressure inside him rose to the tipping point. His toes curled against the sheets, hands clawing at the pillow behind him so rough he thought he was going to rip it. His eyes were screwed shut as he thrusted back and forth thoughtlessly, into Hannibal’s hand and down against his dick. He spilled white between them, gasping and moaning and writhing, trying to wring the last bits of intense pleasure from his deflating dick. 

Hannibal grabbed at the sheets below him and bit down hard on Will’s shoulder, moaning against his skin. Will felt the spill of hot inside him, causing him to shudder a moan of his own.

Hannibal slumped, spent, on top of him. His weight was a comforting heat. Their breaths slowly syncopating, coming down from the high. Will whimpered when Hannibal pulled out of him. 

Hannibal got up from on top of him and moved to the end of the bed.

“Where are you going”, Will asked. 

“Have to clean up. Stay there”. 

He felt the sticky white on his stomach and dripping onto the back of his thighs. Some part of him wanted to keep it there. A reminder. The other part knew that was gross and questioned his sanity. 

Hannibal came back out of the ensuite with a face cloth. It was warm and damp against his skin as Hannibal wiped him clean. Will hummed at the feel of the cloth, warm and welcoming.

Hannibal discarded the cloth and crawled under the covers. He moved closer to Will, tucking his face behind Will’s neck and throwing an arm across his body. Will nuzzled back into him, lightly running his fingers along his forearm. 

Will sighed, a pleasant calm coming over him. 

“Will”, Hannibal said, voice muffled from being pressed against his skin.

“Yeah?”

“I love you”. He kissed the back of Will’s neck in punctuation.

Will smiled, eyes still closed, a sleepy haze softening the edges of the world. “I love you too”. 


	13. Did You Think I Forgot About Winston?

The news sites still haven’t died down, even more than a week after the murder. And unfortunately,  _ Tattle Crime _ caught wind. 

“Are we going to have to leave?”, Will said, looking over Hannibal’s shoulder at the article.    
“They don’t know it’s us. Right now it’s all just speculation. And no one in their right mind would take what Freddie Lounds has to say as credible”. 

“But still”, Will said. “She’s not wrong. What if someone recognizes us from the opera? What if they come for us here?”.

Hannibal closed his iPad, turning to Will. “Then we will go somewhere else”.

Will’s face scrunched up at that.

“But, until that happens, I see no reason why we shouldn’t be going about business as usual”.

Will broke into a small smile. “You’re sure?”.

“Would I ever put us in a situation where we could be hurt?”

Will quirked his eyebrow. “We don’t really have time to unpack that question”.

“Ok, you’re right. I should have said, would I ever put us in a situation where we could be separated?”.

Will smirked. “Better”.

“There’s still something bothering you. What is it?”.

“It’s nothing”.

“It’s obviously not nothing. I can sense there’s something. It would be easiest for us if you would just tell me or I can break out the light therapy”. He looked into Will’s eyes.

Will sighed. “I guess the magnitude of everything is finally hitting me”.

“You don’t have to participate in my activities if it doesn’t please you”, Hannibal said. He put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Although I enjoy hunting with you, I’ve done it alone all this time. I can continue alone”.

“No”, Will said. He looked deep at Hannibal. Urgent. “That’s not it. That’s not what I meant. I love hunting with you. It feels good. It feels right. You bring out the parts of me that I was too afraid of, but now I can’t live without”.

“Then what did you mean?”

“It’s just”, Will took a steadying breath in. “what are we going to do, forever. That’s a lot of time. We can’t just sit around in the house all day, or take the dog for a walk, or laze by the water”.

“Ah”, Hannibal said, “you would like structure”.

“It sounds crazy, I know”.

“It doesn’t”, Hannibal assured. “I think the most logical solution to your problem is to get a job”.

“Doing what?”

“What will make you the happiest?”

Will paused. He actually never thought of that before. What can he do outside of detective work, because Lord knows he’s not going down that road again.

“You don’t need to figure it out now. Like you said, we have forever”.

The weight on Will’s chest lifted a little, but something was still nagging at him. Something he doesn’t know Hannibal will be able to give him.

“There’s something else”, he began. 

Hannibal clasped his hand. “Is there any way that we could, maybe, someday, go back for Winston?”. Will avoided Hannibal’s eyes, looking down. He feels stupid for asking, why risk their safety for a dog? But Winston helped him through a lot, and it’s been hard to be without him.

“Of course we can”.

Will’s eyes shot up. “Really?”. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, wide and appreciating.

“Yes. We can head down this coming Summer”.

“That’s not far from now”, Will said.

“No. But it’ll give us time to plan. And plenty of people travel in the summer, lots of faces to hide behind, less attentive security guards”.

Will brought their bodies together in a tight hug. “Thank you”, he whispered into Hannibal’s ear.

They pulled back and Hannibal kissed him. “Anything for you”, he caressed the side of Will’s face.

Winnie jumped up on the couch between them.

“Aww, you hear that girl?”, Will said, scratching behind her ear. “You’re gonna get a brother”.

“Winnie and Winston”, Hannibal smirked.

“And Buster?”, Will looked up at him from under his eyelashes. He was definitely pushing his luck, but Hannibal nodded anyway.

“I’m going to have to figure out a way to smuggle seven dogs across the border, aren’t I?”, Hannibal asked, though he didn’t sound all that annoyed. Will nodded, smiling in fake apology. After all, what’s a farmhouse good for with just two people and one dog?

Dinner that night was amazing. Hannibal went all out, as he always does. The “pork” was paired with a wine that Hannibal let Will pick out. Luckily it made the whole dish taste incredible instead of throwing it off entirely. Will is in no way an expert on pairing wine with things, but he likes to think he’s getting better. 

“I missed your cooking”, Will said, taking a bite.

“I’ve cooked for you every day since we got here”.

“Yes. But”, Will indicates the piece of meat on his fork, “I’ve missed your cooking”. Jón may have been a boring man, but he sure goes well with roasted asparagus.

“Yes”, Hannibal said, hiding a smile behind a bite, “I did too”.

“I’m sure. Though I don’t exactly have your cravings, I appreciate a nice piece of meat from time to time”.

Hannibal couldn’t hide his smile that time. He huffed a laugh and Will could see a blush creeping upon his cheeks. “You sure do”, he quirked his eyebrow.

It’s Will’s turn to blush now. “Not what I meant”, he said with a slanted smile.

“I know. But I do enjoy seeing you flustered”. Hannibal looked down, face falling.

“What’s wrong?”.

“Nothing. It’s just”, Hannibal paused. He looked up at Will from across the table and held his gaze. “Are you happy?”.

Will let out a breath. A warm smile broke out across his face. “More than I’ve ever been”.

The smile spread to Hannibal now. They looked at each other, eyes crinkled at the sides from their grins. Lines in both their faces that weren’t there when they met. The very beginnings of grey started to sparkle through Will’s hair, no doubt to soon match Hannibal’s, who was nearly all grey now. Only the very inklings of brown-blond still peeked through when Will ran his hands through Hannibal’s hair. He still had the photo of young Hannibal from Italy. Maybe someday Hannibal will open up more and share some stories. But they had all the time in the world for that. They had forever, and it’s perfect. 


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's POV back at Quantico

“Come in”, Jack said.

Price and Zeller filed into his office, faces pulled.

“What is it now?”, Jack all but rolled his eyes. God, he’s tired.

“We think you should take a look at this”. Price got out his phone and handed it to him. This time Jack really rolled his eyes.

“ _ Tattle Crime _ ? Really? I’m not reading this garbage”.

“Look”, Zeller started, “I know Freddie’s not always reliable, but just read it. Please”.

Jack put on his glasses and started reading the article.

_ Hannibal the Cannibal and Ex-FBI special agent Will Graham in Iceland? _

_ A few days ago it hit the news that a murder was committed in the always quiet town of  _ _ Reykjavík, Iceland’s capital. This struck me and my reporters as odd, how can a country with a crime rate of 0% be subject to such a heinous act? Well, I may have the answer for you. _

_ It’s no secret that notorious serial killing cannibal, Hannibal Lecter, escaped from custody early last year. Well, I say escape, but the honest answer is that the FBI failed us. They let him out, and then, aided by Special Agent Will Graham, they escaped to an unknown location. Well, unknown until now. _

_ Unfortunately, there were no clues or evidence left at the scene. But it is my belief that this was done by Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham.  _ _ The way the crime was committed and staged (or as Will Graham would say, the design) was done in such a way that’s similar to how Hannibal the Cannibal (previously known as the Chesapeake Ripper) staged his crimes. I’m going to be outlining the scene of the crime below, and I’m warning my readers now, it’s graphic. _

_ The man,  _ _ Jón Einarson, was cut open from chin to navel. This flesh was then spread open and all organs were removed and replaced with beautiful, once pristine copies of classic novels, pages torn out, balled up, and stuffed into him. It is speculated that he was still alive during the cutting open process, incapacitated by partial suffocation until he was unconscious.  _

_ The man was then arranged on his bed, slumped back against the pillows as if he was merely sitting up. The flesh was thought to be arranged as if they were the open pages of a book. His organs were nowhere to be found on the scene. This is another signature of Hannibal Lecters, taking the flesh home to later cook and eat it.  _

_ The meaning behind the body’s display is not known. But as someone who’s personally interacted with both Lecter and Graham, I can say with almost 100% that this man insulted the intelligence of the men.  _

_ It is my hope that the local police are able to catch and detain these dangerous criminals and that the people of Iceland can remain safe. _

_ Freddie Lounds _

Jack looked up from the screen, took his glasses off, and pinched the bridge of his nose

“Well?”, Price said.

“Well what?”, Jack looked at him, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“What do you mean, ‘well what’?”, Zeller said. “Did you even read it? It was them 100%”.

“And what do you want me to do about that?”, Jack said. He got up from his desk and grabbed a box from underneath it.

“We should go down there and track them down”, Zeller said.

Jack grabbed his computer and papers, putting them in the box. “No”, he said.

“What?”, Price said. “No?”

“No”, Jack repeated. The box was now full with the contents of his desk. 

“It’s not my problem anymore”.He walked over to the coat rack and grabbed his jacket. 

“But-”, Zeller began.

“I’ve spent years of my life on cases surrounding Hannibal Lecter. I’ve spent years of my life trying to keep Will Graham from the dark side”, he shouldered his coat. “Both efforts, in vain”.

“Sir-”, Price said.

“I’m done with them. Done. I tried, I failed. I’m done now. I’m tired and I just want to go home”.

“Yes. Good idea”, Price said. “Go home, rest up. We can deal with it after we get some sleep”.

“You’re not hearing me”, Jack said, now halfway out the door. “I’m going home. And I’m not coming back. Those two are Iceland’s problem now. And I wish Iceland the best of luck, but I think it’s time I retire”.

“Retire?”, Zeller said.

“Retire”. Jack turned to face them. “I’m tired. And sick of this job. I think maybe I’ll go to Italy again. I didn’t really get to enjoy it last time I was there”. 

Now on his way down the hall, Jack didn’t turn to look back at Price and Zeller, who were no doubt standing awestruck, mouths hanging open like idiots. 

He makes a mental note to block  _ Tattle Crime  _ and any site like it from his browser. He’s going to like not having to deal with their shit anymore. Let Iceland have a turn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end my lovelies!! I hope you enjoyed it. I had a lot of fun writing it.


End file.
